


looking for the map that leads me home

by acreatureofhope



Series: don't wanna live as an unsung melody [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, F/M, background stormpilot, but they aren't actually meant to resemble those people, i just enjoy certain dynamics, in which many of these characters have real-life counterparts in the music industry, lando's in the band but i haven't decided if he's actually going to show up yet or not, musician au, rey basically has my taste in music and i'm not sorry, rose and jessika are here too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acreatureofhope/pseuds/acreatureofhope
Summary: Rebellion Records: legendary in the music world, responsible for producing artists like Dosmit Ræh and Poe Dameron, founded by some of the biggest names in music, and the source of Rey’s dream—a recording contract that would let her work with musicians and producers whose creations she had been admiring since she was a child.Unfortunately, it seemed that the closest she was going to get to that dream was her position at Takodana Music. She sold instruments and records rather than making them, but she couldn’t complain. She was employed, she shared a comfortable apartment with her best friend, and her boss let her borrow the recording equipment every once in a while.Then one day he walked in and set off an avalanche.





	1. superman

Takodana Music looked like it should be the sole music store in a small town, not tucked away on the ground floor of a building in the Upper West Side. It occupied a long, narrow space between a Chinese restaurant and a bookstore, with six sets of floor-to-ceiling shelving packed with records and CDs forming five aisles along the front of the store. The back half of the space was filled with instruments and recording equipment, some new and some used, and the only places to sit down were the two piano benches paired with their respective instruments and the bar stool that sat behind the counter at the front of the store.

It was 1:47 p.m. on a Tuesday, and it was quiet, just like it always was. With the exception of the first month of her employment when she was near-constantly supervised, Rey had worked the early shift on her own for the last year and a half. Maz Kanata, her boss, had given her that shift not so that Rey could go out in the evenings (though that did seem like something Maz would do), but because the relative quiet of the store in the mornings and early afternoon gave her time to “do the things that need doing”—stocking CDs and records, going through the new arrivals, making sure that all of the shelves were in order, and ensuring that the instruments were in good repair, amongst other things.

Truth be told, she didn’t know how Maz kept the store open, unless it was insanely busy in the evenings. Rent in New York was never cheap—everyone knew that—and the wage that Maz paid her for her six-and-a-half hour shifts was beyond fair. Since the day Rey had started at Takodana Music, Maz had been somewhat of an enigma, and if she were to examine what she had learned about her boss in the year and a half since she started, it would turn out to be relatively little.

Still, Rey couldn’t complain. She sold instruments rather than playing them, and listened to music rather than making it, but she knew she was lucky. She was employed, she shared a comfortable apartment with her best friend (even if it was an hour’s subway journey from the store), and Maz let her borrow the recording equipment every once in a while. Most aspiring musicians would have killed for a job like hers, especially in a place like New York City, and she would never it take for granted even if it was the only thing she did for the rest of her life.

She hummed along to the song that was playing over the speakers—not in the mood for anything in particular, she had put on one of the longest playlists that she’d constructed during her time at the store, which consisted entirely of songs that were fun to sing along to regardless of their genre—and went about her usual afternoon task. When she completed things was entirely up to her, but the hour or two after she ate lunch (at the counter, because Maz didn’t care about things like that and there really wasn’t any other option) were usually reserved for restocking the shelves and putting out the new arrivals, and she didn’t like to break her routine.

She shelved each of the CDs that she held before reaching for more, barely having to read the labels on the shelves in front of her as she slotted each case into its temporary home. A year and a half in the store had allowed her to memorize its organization to the point where she didn’t have to think about it anymore, and that had cut the time it took to do most of her job duties in half.

In some places, that would have been a bad thing—she could have had a boss who believed that retail employees should always _look_ busy, even if they actually weren’t—but much in the way that she didn’t care about Rey eating at the counter, Maz also didn’t care about what the younger woman did when the store was empty and she had no responsibilities to take care of. That meant Rey spent a lot of her time doing “useless” things, like creating new playlists, browsing for albums that she wanted for herself, and messing around with the instruments and the recording equipment.

At 1:48 p.m. that Tuesday, however, all resemblance to past workdays disappeared.

Rey stepped down from the stepstool, folded it up, and made her way into next aisle with the box of CDs balanced on her hip. She immediately stopped when she saw the tall, dark-haired man dressed entirely in black standing at the end of the aisle, staring at the punk records. There was something attractive about the way that he stood, but he didn’t look up at the sound of her footsteps—the _snap_ of her sandals wasn’t exactly quiet, so he had to know she was there—and she set down the box and stepstool before moving closer to him.

“Can I help you find anything?” she asked, plastering her customer service smile on her face.

His eyes flicked up for the briefest moment, his lip curling when he caught sight of her floral-print sundress and the sunny yellow polish on her fingernails. “I doubt it. I bet you like Taylor Swift, don’t you?”

Rey rocked back on her heels. “Her old stuff, yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. She just stared at him for a moment and he shook his head. “Why is someone with a shit taste in music allowed to work at a music store?”

Her mouth dropped. Before she could say anything in response, he turned around and walked away. She heard him stop two aisles over, where they kept the vinyl records, and rather than follow him, she unfolded her stepstool and took a few CDs from the box. She only had a little over an hour left in her shift and she wanted to have the restocking done before Maz arrived. It was a rare day where she didn’t finish the task before she left, and she wasn’t going to let some dark and mysterious asshole ruin that for her.

For a while, only the occasional sound of his footsteps let her know that he was still in the store. It probably violated about a thousand different retail rules to not be keeping an eye on him, but it was hard to shoplift a vinyl, and besides, the entire store was under video surveillance. Even if he did manage to steal anything, they’d have his face on the cameras, and if they failed by some miracle, his height and face were so distinctive that he wouldn’t be able to hide anywhere.

No, she was going to let him take his seemingly-perceived superiority as far away from her as possible. She liked plenty of artists beyond Taylor Swift, but it appeared that all he needed was one look at her outfit to conclude that that was impossible, and she wasn’t going to go out of her way to correct that assumption.

When she finally heard his footsteps move toward the front of the store, she headed to the register. They reached it at the same time, and despite her resolution that she wasn’t going to challenge what he seemed to think of her, she couldn’t help but comment on his record choice when he passed it over the counter to her.

“Good band,” she said as she scanned the barcode on the back of the sleeve. “Have you heard Springsteen’s cover of Just Like Fire Would? That’ll be twenty-one seventy-three, please.”

“Let me guess, that’s the only Saints song you know,” he said as he handed her a couple of bills.

She counted out his change. “Three dollars and twenty-seven cents. Believe what you want.”

He took the bag that she offered him, not saying anything. She didn’t get more than a moment to look at him before he turned around, but that moment was enough for her to conclude two things: something about him was familiar, though she couldn’t say what it was, and her first thought upon seeing him was correct—he was strangely good-looking.

That wasn’t enough to make up for his attitude, though, and she couldn’t help herself when he made his way out of the store.

“Have a nice day,” she called as he pushed the door open, “you complete asshole.”

The door had closed before she finished the second half of the sentence, and a minute later, she switched the music that was playing over the speakers. While she had been enjoying the playlist that had been on for most of her shift—why wouldn’t she enjoy it? She was the one who made it—she couldn’t help but smile when the opening notes of Taylor Swift’s Mine filtered through the store.

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy may have had a problem with the statuesque blonde’s music, but Rey didn’t (at least, not with the earlier stuff), and she didn’t have a problem with letting everyone who entered the store know it.

The last hour of her shift passed relatively quickly—she finished the restocking, confirmed that no albums had been relocated to the wrong place, and helped a couple of customers who were distinctly less rude than Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy had been—and when she stepped out into the afternoon sunshine, she couldn’t say that it had been a bad day.

It was a ten-minute walk to the subway station that would take her home with the fewest transfers, and while she would normally hurry to catch the soonest train, she paused in front of a tall glass building halfway through her walk.

Rebellion Records was legendary in the music world. The label was responsible for producing artists like Dosmit Ræh and Poe Dameron, had been founded by some of the biggest names in music, and was the source of Rey’s dream—a recording contract that would let her work with musicians and producers whose creations she had been admiring since she was a child.

She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help stopping in front of the label’s headquarters every now and then on her walk to the subway station. With the sunlight reflecting off the glass, she couldn’t see anything through the building’s hundreds of windows, but it was almost better that way—not being able to see inside let her pretend that she was there, that she was sitting in a conference room discussing the release of her next single with Han Solo and Leia Organa, that her dream wasn’t unreachable.

After what felt like eternity but couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, she tore her gaze away from the building and continued on toward the subway station. Dreaming was nice, but it wasn’t reality, and there was a long subway ride between her and the couch that she wanted to collapse on for the rest of the day.

She pulled out her phone and put her earbuds in as she hurried down the steps into the station. Just like always, she would spend the journey listening to a combination of new discoveries and old favorites. It didn’t make the trip any faster, but it did make it easier for her, and that was good enough.

It was nearly five when she made it to the apartment that she shared with her best friend, Finn. He worked at a coffee shop near the southern end of Central Park and took some classes part-time at NYU, so they weren’t always home at the same time, but they overlapped enough that Rey didn’t feel like she lived alone.

“Honey, I’m home,” Rey said, grinning as she pushed open the door. “Oh, hey, Rose.”

Finn’s coworker smiled up at Rey from her position on the couch. “Hey, Rey!”

“Didn’t feel like going back to the shoebox?” Rey asked, hanging her bag on a hook to the right of the door.

Rose made a face at the mention of her tiny Manhattan studio apartment. “I don’t know why I ever thought that living in downtown would be a good idea. I should’ve picked something out here like you two.”

“Your commute to work is literally a quarter of mine,” Finn said from where he stood in the kitchen, his voice flat. He walked into the living room with a glass of water and sat down on the other end of the couch.

“True, but you have more than three square feet in which to live,” Rose said.

Rey kicked off her sandals and settled on the couch in between them. “At least you have us to take advantage of, Rose. Imagine if all your friends lived in the middle of Manhattan.”

“I would die,” Rose said. “What would I do if I couldn’t take over your kitchen?”

“What would we do if you weren’t keeping us consistently supplied with baked goods?” Finn asked.

It was a fair question—Rose was an aspiring pastry chef, and given that her shoebox of an apartment barely had a kitchen to begin with, she borrowed Rey and Finn’s whenever she wanted to test out a new recipe (or just make an old favorite). They got most of the product as payment for the use of their space, which they thought was an unfair bargain (to their benefit), but Rose seemed to view the experience gain as more important than anything else.

Rose stayed through dinner—she may have wanted to be a pastry chef, but she had a general talent for all things in the culinary realm, and Rey and Finn never passed up a chance for her assistance on a meal—and it wasn’t until just after eight that they were alone in their apartment for the first time since that morning.

Finn leaned up against the doorframe in the kitchen as Rey removed the teabag from her mug. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

Rey glanced at him as she stirred a spoonful of honey into the tea. “Maz gave me the day off, so no.”

“We should put a video together,” Finn said.

Rey poured a splash of milk into her tea and shook her head. “No.”

“Come on,” Finn said. “You have to get your music out there somehow, and you know how many people have started their careers on YouTube.”

“No, I’m not doing that,” Rey said. “You know that, Finn. Stop pushing it.”

She picked up her mug and sipped from it up as she walked past him. It was an old, tired argument, but that didn’t stop him from bringing it up or her from wishing that he wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is "Superman" by Taylor Swift, for one line in particular—"Tall, dark, and beautiful, he's complicated, he's irrational."
> 
> I did not need to start another thing but here we are. I'm also taking some creative liberties with NYC, given that I've only been there four times in my life, and never for longer than twelve hours. Some things are stolen from my cousin's experience living in the city for ~a decade, but most of it's made up.


	2. the miracle (of joey ramone)

Fortunately, Rey’s next shift at the store was just as quiet as they usually were, with no appearances by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy (as she had continued to refer to him in her head) to spoil the morning for her. A school group passing by on their way to an off-Broadway show stopped in for a while and she helped a few students pick out new albums from bands they’d never heard of, but other than that, there weren’t many customers.

Just before noon, a dark-haired woman of middling height entered the store. She had a phone balanced between her ear and shoulder as she looked through the CDs, and though Rey wasn’t normally in the habit of eavesdropping, she couldn’t help but overhear the woman’s conversation given that the store was quiet save for the music playing.

“What does she mean, she wants fuller?” the woman asked. She pulled a CD off the shelf in the electronic section, only to look at what she was holding, make a face, and move down the aisle to the rock music after she had reshelved the CD. “Well, did you tell her to try an acoustic?” A moment’s pause. “And she says an electric is too loud? What does she want, four guitarists?”

Rey slipped off her stool and walked over to the woman. She waved her hand slightly to catch the woman’s attention and, once she added, gestured toward the back of the store where the instruments were. The woman followed her, eyes lighting up when Rey laid her hand on the head stock of a twelve-string guitar.

“Tell her to use a twelve-string,” the woman said. There were a few moments of silence before she smiled. “Oh, thank god. I’ll be back after lunch and we can get back to work. Thanks, Kay.” She ended the call and turned her smile on Rey. “Thank you so much…”

“Oh, I’m Rey,” Rey said when it became clear that the woman was waiting for her name. “Sorry if I intruded, but I thought a twelve-string might help.”

“It did,” the woman said. “My name’s Jessika.” She tilted her head and glanced at Rey. “Do you play?”

Rey nodded, ducking her head and pushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I do, yeah. I was using a twelve-string on something a couple months ago when I wanted a bigger sound as opposed to a louder one and that’s why I thought of it.”

Jessika smiled again. “Then you’re the perfect person to be working in a music store.” She glanced back toward the CDs. “Want to help me pick out some new music?”

“Do I ever,” Rey said, starting toward the aisles. “When you say new, do you mean new-new, or new-old?”

“Either,” Jessika said. “I’m just looking to expand my horizons.”

“What do you usually listen to?” Rey asked.

Jessika shrugged. “A little bit of everything, really, but I tend to lean more toward rock and punk and that sort of thing.” She laughed. “My best friend hates it. He’s more of a singer-songwriter kind of guy.”

“Nothing wrong with either,” Rey said. She paused in front of a set of shelves and glanced over her shoulder. “How do you feel about Mumford and Sons?”

“They’re good,” Jessika said. “I’ve heard everything they have out, though.”

Rey grinned. “Have you heard of Bear’s Den?”

Jessika shook her head. “Should I have?”

“I think so, but that’s not how it usually works out,” Rey said, pulling a couple of CDs off a shelf in front of them. “They’re very similar to Mumford, but they’re distinct in their own way.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jessika said. “Any other suggestions?”

“Opinions on Springsteen?” Rey asked, walking to a different area of the shelves.

“He’s the Boss and therefore awesome,” Jessika said. “Is there any other valid opinion about him?”

“Not in my world,” Rey said. “How familiar are you with his wife?”

“Isn’t she in the band?” Jessika asked.

“Yeah, she is,” Rey said. “She’s also a kickass musician in her own right, though.” She pulled another CD off the shelf and added it to the pile. “Anytime someone asks me what my favorite thing about him is, I always say it’s that he’s married to Patti.” She looked at the three CDs she held before glancing back at Jessika. “How much new music do you want?”

Jessika laughed. “Give me a few more CDs. I’m going to take advantage of your expertise while I’m here.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Rey said. “You said you like punk, so…” She walked to a different shelf and grabbed a couple of CDs. “We’ll put a little Anti-Flag in here, and then…” She spun on her heel and pulled a CD from yet another shelf. “I’ll give you some Interpol, though you may have already heard of them since they opened for U2 a while back, and that should be enough to tide you over for a bit.”

“I’ve heard them mentioned, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually listened to any of their music,” Jessika said.

“They’re pretty good,” Rey said. “Not my favorite, but they’re definitely worth the five dollars for a used CD.” She paled a moment later. “You’re good with used, right?”

“Of course,” Jessika said. “I buy everything used, pretty much.” She followed Rey to the front of the store. “It seems stupid to me to spend all that money on a digital version of something when I can spend half as much, get something that I can upload into a digital version, and have the physical copy to display. I think CDs and vinyls are massively underrated, though the latter do seem to be making a comeback.”

Rey smiled. “Yeah, they are.” She began to scan the labels on the cases. “I feel the same way, though. Half the fun of having a music collection is displaying your music collection. It’s a great conversation starter, and it just makes me feel good to look at it.”

“It’s inspiring,” Jessika said. “It’s nice to remember that most of those albums that I love wouldn’t exist without the people in the background helping make those songs into what they are. It’s not just the artists who matter.”

“Definitely not,” Rey said, bagging Jessika’s purchases. “That’s what I find so satisfying about making my own music. Everything is mixed how I want it.” Her smile faded slightly. “At least, it is when I’m able to borrow recording equipment from the store, which isn’t often.”

“Studio time is expensive as hell if you don’t have a contract,” Jessika said, taking the bag that Rey passed to her.

 “Yes it is,” Rey said, brightening again a moment later. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Jessika said, grinning. “I’ll be sure to come back here the next time I need some new music recommendations.” Her grin widened. “Maybe I’ll come back just to talk music with you.”

“That would be great,” Rey said. “Have a good rest of your day!”

“Same to you,” Jessika said.

She tossed one last grin over her shoulder as she left, a stark contrast to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy’s exit the previous day. It was people like her that made the rude customers worth it for Rey, though—getting to talk music with people who really loved it always made her shifts special, and it was even better when she got to share artists that she enjoyed with them.

The rest of her shift passed quickly, and rather than heading home, she made her way to the coffee shop where Finn and Rose worked, which wasn’t far from the store. Finn had an afternoon shift that day, which meant he wouldn’t be done until well past when Rey would get home—it wasn’t the latest shift at the coffee shop, but it was close—and it was always nice to stop in and say hello, even if that was all she did.

He was in his usual position behind the counter, but his eyes were practically glazed over as he made someone’s drink. It made it into their hands unscathed, but he knocked a stack of cups over as he turned around. Rey lifted her hand to cover her mouth as she laughed, and she could hear his manager even over the grinding of the espresso machines.

“Trooper, go pull yourself together,” Sam said as he steamed milk. “You’re no use to me if you’re falling all over yourself.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Finn said, though he still looked half-dazed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said. “Get out.”

Finn came out from behind the counter and made a beeline to Rey as she sat down at a table by the window—Sam knew her and she bought enough drinks that he didn’t mind if she hung around for a few minutes every once in a while without paying for anything.

Rey looked at Finn as he dropped down into the chair opposite hers, but he didn’t say anything. She waved her hand at him, only to reach across the table and snap her fingers in front of his face. “Finn!”

He jolted. “What?”

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem a little… off.”

“I saw him, Rey,” Finn said, his eyes glazing over again.

Rey’s brow furrowed. “Saw who?”

“Poe Dameron,” Finn said, his voice soft.

_“What?”_

Finn nodded. “I made him his drink. Caramel latte with an extra shot. He talked to me.”

“Talked to you as in ordered his drink, or talked to you talked to you?” Rey asked.

“He talked to me,” Finn repeated. “He’s so nice.”

Rey leaned forward. “Is he as good-looking in person?”

“Better,” Finn said. “Times a million. He has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.”

“And?” Rey asked.

“He took his coffee and left,” Finn said. “I’m not sure he’s real.”

Rey stifled a laugh. “Rose is going to be pissed that she missed it.”

“She might kill me,” Finn said.

Glancing over at the counter, Rey shifted in her seat. “Sam doesn’t seem fazed.”

“He’s worked here for eight years,” Finn said. “He’s seen so many famous people he’s used to it. I touched his hand, Rey.”

“Sam’s?” Rey asked, forcing back her grin.

“Poe Dameron’s,” Finn said. “He has the nicest hands.”

“Finn, I think you’re in love,” Rey said.

“I’ve been in love with him since the first time I heard him sing,” Finn said. “Who wouldn’t be?”

“That’s a fair question,” Rey said.

“You’re not in love with him, are you?” Finn asked.

Rey smiled and shook her head. “No, he’s all yours.”

“Good,” Finn said, a dreamy smile on his face. “Mine. That’s good.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Rey asked after a minute of silence, a faraway look in Finn’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Rey said. She stood up. “I’m going to go home and let you sit here for a few more minutes, but I think Sam would like you back eventually, yeah?”

Finn nodded. She rounded the table and bent over just enough to kiss his temple before she crossed the room to the counter.

Sam looked up at her from where he was batching coffee beans. “The usual?”

“No, I’m heading out, but thanks,” Rey said. She looked back over her shoulder at Finn. “I think he’ll snap out of it soon, but call me if he doesn’t and I’ll yell at him.”

Sam chuckled. “Will do. Thanks, Rey.”

She smiled at him in goodbye and exited the coffee shop. Some people probably would’ve found it strange that her best friend’s boss had her phone number, but eight months previous she had had to pick Finn up when the stomach flu had come on rather suddenly, and Sam had kept her number on hand ever since. She was listed in Finn’s paperwork as his emergency contact, but digging through the personnel files was more work than it needed to be just to get in touch with her, so she had given Sam permission to program her number into his phone.

On the subway ride home, she entertained herself with mental images of what Finn’s encounter with the incredibly attractive, funny, and talented Poe Dameron must have been like. Her best friend was a pretty excitable person and he had admired Poe for as long as she had known him, so combining those things was sure to lead to a rather amusing outcome.

She drummed her fingers against her thigh as she walked from her subway stop back to their apartment, and as soon as she was inside, she went to her room and grabbed her guitar and the little notebook where she kept her lyric ideas.

“So I'll dream about you and me and everything that we could be, even if it never happens,” she sang to herself, scribbling the words down on a blank page. “We’re perfect for—no…” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re what I’m searching—no.” Biting her lip, she ran through the first few lines again in her head. “The beauty's in the mystery, the potential for forever, and all the little moments in between.”

Smiling, she wrote the next few lines on the same page and reached for her guitar. With that one verse (or chorus? She never knew until she was finished), she constructed a melody for the rest of the song and filled the lyrics in as she went. Odds were she would hate it three days later—she only liked about five percent of what she wrote when she went back to it—but so it was with the creative process, and she recorded a rough version of the song on her laptop with the help of a desktop microphone.

It wasn’t an especially sophisticated recording setup, but it let her record something to have for the future if she decided that she still liked a song at a later date. If she didn’t like it, well… She had the recording anyway.

She flipped through some of the old files on the computer, songs that she’d written weeks or months (or even years) ago, and after listening to one in particular, she pulled up a music sharing site that she frequently browsed but never posted on. After uploading the file, she filled out all of the relevant information, only to pause with her mouse hovering over the “Post” button.

What was she doing? Uploading a horrible demo wasn’t going to help her get her name out there, and it certainly wouldn’t land her in Rebellion Records’ offices. No, it would just embarrass her, the rough quality up against all of the studio-quality versions recorded by people who had enough discretionary income to spend it on things like studio time, and she was bound to hate the lyrics again in a week anyway.

She shut her laptop and pushed it aside. There was a better way to get her name out there—there had to be.

She had taken up most of the evening between writing and listening to the old recordings, so it wasn’t a surprise when she heard the front door open.

“Peanut, I’m home,” Finn called. “I picked up takeout for dinner.”

Rey left her room and walked down the short hallway to their living room. Finn was in the kitchen laying out containers that she recognized as being from her favorite Thai place, and she smiled as she made her way over to him.

“You’re the best,” she said.

He smiled. “I know.”

She opened one of the cartons and grabbed a fried spring roll and container of dipping sauce before hopping up to sit on the counter. “You seem to have recovered from earlier.”

He shook his head, taking a spring roll for himself and sitting up on the counter opposite hers. “Oh, I haven’t recovered. I’ve just compartmentalized.”

“Whatever lets you get through the day,” Rey said. “It really was him, though? Not just some lookalike pretending to be him?”

“It was him,” Finn said. “Sam confirmed it. Apparently he’s been in a couple times over the last few months.”

“Well, if Sam confirmed it then it must be true,” Rey said, grinning. “I’m kind of jealous that I wasn’t there.”

“As you should be,” Finn said. “He’s unreal. I mean, he’s real, but he’s _unreal_.”

“I know what you mean,” Rey said. “He seems like that kind of guy.”

“I hope he comes back,” Finn said. “I don’t think I managed to say more than two words to him.”

Rey laughed. “I thought you said he talked to you.”

“Talked _at_ me might be more accurate,” Finn said, his cheeks darkening. “He was trying to make conversation and all I could do was stare at him.”

“And how’d he take that?” Rey asked, reaching out and opening and closing her hand.

Finn passed her another spring roll, the gesture easy across the narrow width of their kitchen. “He just laughed.”

“So he wasn’t offended then,” Rey said. “I’m sure he gets it a lot.”

“Probably,” Finn said. “But god, Rey, it was Poe Dameron.”

“Maybe one day I’ll meet someone famous,” Rey said.

“You will,” Finn said. “You’ll get your recording contract and then everyone will want to meet you.”

Rey sighed. “I wish.”

“It’ll happen,” Finn said before he glanced down at the containers beside him. “Pumpkin curry or Pad Thai?”

“I’ll take the curry,” Rey said.

“I knew that was going to happen,” Finn said, jumping down from the counter.

Finn knew a lot of things. Rey could only hope that he knew what he was talking about when he said she would get a recording contract in the same way that he knew she would take pumpkin curry over Pad Thai every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I wouldn't update this quickly, but I'm loving this AU and I couldn't resist (also because there's no Kylo in this chapter and the sooner we get through the no Kylo chapter, the sooner there will be a Kylo chapter). Also, let's be real: Finn in this chapter is all of us if we ever met Poe Dameron (or Oscar Isaac, for that matter). 
> 
> Rey's line about the best thing about Bruce Springsteen being his marriage to his wife is directly stolen from a conversation that I had with my mother five days ago. If I ever meet the Boss I will probably spontaneously combust. Same goes for meeting Patti, or Jess. I love all three of them (the boys are okay too I guess). Anti-Flag is here because a) I like them and b) my mom has a longstanding relationship with Justin Sane, so why not add them in (I wouldn't call them friends exactly, since we don't see him much anymore, but they've known each other for a long time).
> 
> We can thank my high school self for pretty much any (non-stolen, lol) song lyrics that appear in this story. I'm sorry but also not because they need to be used _somewhere_.
> 
> Chapter title is The Miracle (Of Joey Ramone) by U2, mainly because I love it, but also because "I was chasing down the days of fear, chasing down a dream before it disappeared" and "I woke up at the moment when the miracle occurred, heard a song that made some sense out of the world" seem pretty fitting for this story. 
> 
> I forgot to say this in the last chapter, but I can be found on Tumblr at reynoverthegalaxy.
> 
> I'm sorry if there are any typos, I'm posting without proofreading and will look at the chapter again when it's not past midnight. Until next time, folks.


	3. build me up buttercup

A week and a half passed quietly after the day of Jessika’s visit to the store, with no further sightings of her or Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy. The only thing out of the ordinary was Finn’s stories of Poe Dameron’s visits—he had apparently been coming into the coffee shop regularly since that first day, and while it had taken Finn a few days to get over the fact that it was _Poe Dameron_ standing in front of him, they seemed to have developed an easy rapport.

While Rey did want to meet the musician, she didn’t want to spoil Finn’s time with the man. She hadn’t seen her best friend head-over-heels for anyone in a long time, including the brief time that he and Rose had dated after they’d first met, and while some of it probably was due to who Poe was, Finn seemed so genuinely happy after seeing him that Rey didn’t want to intrude.

Instead, she focused on work. Nothing especially exciting was happening at Takodana Music—she was still stocking CDs and reorganizing displays—but there were always Maz’s lists of possible new content to add to the store’s collection, and she did get the occasional customer who wanted her help. It was enough to keep her busy, and that was good enough for her.

She was in the middle of dusting off the instruments at the back of the store, singing along softly to the playlist of old favorites that was on, when the door opened and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy walked into the store. He didn’t look back at her as he made his way to the rock CDs, and she moved on to the next instrument without bothering to ask if he needed her help. She was sure he’d make it known if he wanted something from her, and she didn’t particularly feel like getting into it with him.

“Brown Eyed Girl” faded out and “Build Me Up Buttercup” faded in, and in her peripheral vision she could just see him rolling his eyes. She was tempted to turn around and ask him what his problem was—the song was a classic—but she just shook her head and continued dusting, singing the lyrics quietly. He didn’t seem to have an appreciation for anything fun, and that was his problem, not hers.

She didn’t hear anything from him as he looked through the albums, and for a few moments she was almost convinced that he had left the store. After she finished dusting the final instrument, she turned around and started back toward the counter—she needed to organize the display of rare albums and records in the glass case under the register—only to stop in her tracks several feet away from him.

He stood there, his head bowed and dark hair falling in his face as he read the back of a Franz Ferdinand album. The lighting was wrong, but she knew that silhouette—she had seen it on album covers and tour posters and a t-shirt or two enough times to recognize it—and she couldn’t help herself.

“Holy shit, you’re Kylo Ren.”

He looked up at her, and sure enough, if you were to add some dark stage makeup and reveal the tattoos that she was sure were hiding beneath his sleeves, there would be no mistaking him. She hadn’t gotten a good enough look at his face the first time he’d come in, but she knew she was right. Whether or not he would admit it, however, was a different story, and if the glare on his face was anything to go by, he wasn’t happy that she’d figured it out.

A moment later, he began to laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of true amusement—it was too cold for that—but it was a laugh nonetheless, and there was humor tinged with a hint of anger in his brown eyes as he looked at her.

“I didn’t think that anyone who liked Taylor Swift knew what Starkiller was,” he said. “Isn’t it a little too dark for you?”

“‘Build Me Up Buttercup’ is apparently too much fun for you, so I don’t think you’re really in a place to be judging me,” Rey said, crossing her arms. “Liking Taylor Swift doesn’t automatically disqualify me from liking other things, you know.”

“Other things that are probably bubblegum pop,” Kylo said.

Rey shook her head. “I’m not even going to bother trying to convince you otherwise, since you clearly don’t actually care.” She looked at the wall of albums next to him. “Isn’t there anything that you listen to just because it’s fun?”

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” he said, all humor fading from his gaze. “It’s supposed to be good.”

“Fun things _are_ good,” she said. “It figures you wouldn’t be on board with that, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

She huffed out a laugh, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. “All of you in Starkiller always looked like you were having a grand old time hating each other, so color me unsurprised that you don’t know how to enjoy yourself.”

His eyes narrowed. “Hating each other?”

“It was pretty obvious,” she said. “I mean, honestly. The Police fought less than you guys and everyone knows Sting is an asshole in a creative setting.”

“Everyone knows that?” Kylo asked.

Rey shrugged. “Everyone who cares about why they only put out five albums, anyway.” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, closing her eyes for a moment, and spoke again when she lowered her hand. “Of course, they never officially broke up so you never know what’ll happen, though I’m not holding out too much hope for album number six.”

He was glaring at her again. “You seem awfully interested in the reasons why bands don’t produce music anymore.”

“That’s what happens when people care about the content that those bands put out,” Rey said. “When people want to know things, they find them out eventually.”

“And let me guess, you’re going to ask me if they kicked me out of the band so that you can sell the story and make a quick buck,” he said, his voice cold. “Give the people what they want, right?”

For the second time in as many visits from him, her mouth dropped. She stared at him for a moment, red tinging the edges of her vision, and when she finally spoke, the sound was ice cutting through the warmth of “There She Goes” as it played over the speakers.

“Get out.” He didn’t move, continuing to glare at her, and she took a step closer to him, tilting her head back so that she could hold eye contact with him. “I said _get. out._ ”

He shook his head, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, but he turned around and left the store. She didn’t move until the door swung shut and he had disappeared from the area in front of the store.

Her movements were charged as she rearranged the albums in the display case below the register, though her grip on each case and sleeve was gentle. Even in anger, she wouldn’t damage anything so precious, especially when those items had been entrusted into her care with the expectation that she look after them.

How dare he, though. How dare he suggest that she would ever be willing to compromise her principles and tell stories about someone just to make money. Yes, she wanted to make it big, but she wanted to make it big because she made something that mattered, something that people wanted to hear, not because she shared information about someone so that it could be publicized and spread for people to draw their own conclusion.

She didn’t even _like_ Starkiller. It really didn’t matter to her why he left—his departure had never been confirmed, but the other two primary members of the band had played shows without him over the last year and it became clear after the first few that he wasn’t coming back—but if working with him was anything like trying to have a conversation with him, she couldn’t blame his band members for wanting to be rid of him. At least, that was assuming that he really had been kicked out rather than leaving of his own accord, but given the last thing he had said to her, the former seemed like the most likely option.

In that moment, she couldn’t help but envy Finn. They’d both been visited by famous musicians, but at the least the one who kept coming back to spend time with Finn was actually nice—at least, per Finn’s account, he was. Rey would’ve taken anyone over Kylo Ren and his attitude problem—well, not _anyone_ , but she would take Sting and his ego any day if it meant that she didn’t have to deal with someone who definitely lived up to the moniker he’d earned in her head.

(Besides, Sting’s nickname was kind of adorable if you thought about it. Anyone with a nickname that resulted from the fact that they had regularly worn a sweater that made them look like a bumblebee was okay in her book.)

She finished organizing the display case and shook her head. It was par for the course, meeting rude celebrities, when you lived in a city like New York, and all she could do was hope that he wouldn’t put in another appearance. There was nothing she could do to prevent him from coming back, save for hope that he got the message when she kicked him out. Maz wouldn’t have approved of the action, but anyone who was willing to insult Rey in the way that he had didn’t deserve to be in the store.

Her anger simmered for the rest of the shift, even as she helped the few customers that came in that afternoon and finished what tasks she had left. She didn’t even know why he bothered coming in to the store—he clearly didn’t enjoy interacting with other human beings, and he definitely had enough money to get whatever he wanted shipped directly to him, so there really wasn’t any reason for him to actually venture out of whatever hole he lived in (though she was sure it was a very nice hole—his clothes may have been simple, but they were definitely expensive).

The looks that she got from strangers as she rode the subway home quickly morphed from curiosity to something bordering on fear. She wasn’t what she would call physically imposing—she may have been five foot seven, but she was tiny for her height, and it wasn’t like she worked out regularly—but she had no doubt that the expression on her face made her look like she wanted kill something (which was accurate).

She was ready to scream when she walked into the apartment just over an hour after her shift ended, only to stop when a paper napkin was shoved in her face.

Taking it from Finn’s hand, she stared at it. “Finn, what—”

“Poe’s number,” Finn said, taking the napkin back. “I have _Poe Dameron’s_ phone number.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Rey asked, hanging up her purse. “Did you just say that’s Poe Dameron’s phone number?”

Finn nodded. “He gave it to me before he left today.”

“And you couldn’t have texted me this information why exactly?” Rey asked.

“It was busy and Sam wouldn’t let me,” Finn said. He stared at the napkin. “Should I text him?”

“I’m pretty sure he gave you his phone number for a reason,” Rey said, moving to the couch. “If he didn’t want you to contact him, he wouldn’t have done that.” She allowed herself to fall backward over the arm of the couch, not caring if her dress rode up to show the shorts she was wearing underneath. “Ask him on a date.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Rey asked. “He keeps coming back to see you, so it’s not like he’s not interested.”

“I don’t think he likes me like that,” Finn said.

“Then ask him to hang out,” Rey said. “Make it sound platonic.”

Finn shook his head. “I can’t do that. It’s Poe Dameron.”

“Who is a human being, just like the rest of us,” Rey said. Her mind flashed to angry brown eyes and a scowl and she made a face. “Well, most of us. Just ask him, Finn.”

“But that’s so presumptuous,” Finn said.

“Then text him ‘hey’ and see what happens,” Rey said. “He can’t get in touch with you if you don’t get in touch with him first.”

“I guess,” Finn said, sitting down on the other end of the couch. “You okay, Peanut? You seem annoyed.”

“Rude customers,” Rey said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ll get over it. Text him.”

“But—”

“Damn it, Finn, just do it!”

“…”

“Finn.”

“All right, fine.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates in as many days? That never happens (and I didn't think it was going to happen because we're going to get dinner and see a comedian perform tonight, but I was wrong) and it won't happen much longer—I go back for my final semester of uni on Monday and while I am taking fewer classes than usual, I've got other stuff going on. My goal is regular updates once I'm back to class, just not super frequent ones like this. 
> 
> This chapter was inspired by my playlist built entirely around "Build Me Up Buttercup," which consists almost exclusively of throwback songs like "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" and "Come On Eileen" and other such things that make me smile, hence the chapter title. I'm not sorry. Also, I really do love The Police (another thing to thank my mother for), but Sting is an (extremely talented) prick (who was very good-looking in his youth, so it's not surprising he's got an ego).
> 
> Kylo's kind of an asshole, but he'll get over it eventually.
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr at reynoverthegalaxy if you want to talk to me about these absolute children, or we can just do it in the comments. Whatever works. (At least I can actually directly respond to comments on here, unlike on another site that shall not be named.)
> 
> Until next time, which could very well be tomorrow, but I make no promises.


	4. everything has changed

As entertaining as it was to have visits like Jessika’s, and as much of a break in the day as it was to have Kylo Ren in the store—she may not have liked the man, but Rey couldn’t deny that his visits were at least a break from the monotony—Rey valued the shifts that were just like any other. They were her routine, her rhythm, the thing that kept her life grounded in something other than her friendship with Finn, and that was something that she appreciated. She had found that consistency was always undervalued until you knew what it was to live without any of it, and she never took it for granted.

Some surprises were good, though, and she certainly got one when she entered the apartment just before dinner after one particularly quiet day at the store—there was normal and routine, and then there was too quiet, and that day’s shift had fallen into the latter category.

While she expected Finn’s presence in the apartment when she got home on days when he had early shifts, one thing that she definitely did not expect was to find Poe Dameron sitting on her couch or to have him turn his million-dollar smile on her the second she opened the door.

“Um, Finn?” Rey called out, still staring at Poe. “Why is Poe Dameron sitting on our couch? I’m Rey, by the way.”

“Poe, but I think you know that already,” Poe said, that smile still on his face.

There was no self-importance in the latter half of his sentence—instead, there was an easy humor in his tone, and Rey relaxed slightly as she shut the door and hung her bag up. She wasn’t at all surprised by his attitude—she’d seen him in enough interviews and heard Finn talk about him enough times to figure that it was genuine, but it was always nice to have those suspicions confirmed when they were positive ones.

“I invited him over for pizza,” Finn said, coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer in each hand. He gave one of them to Poe and held the other in Rey’s direction as he sat down on the couch.

Her gaze flicked to him and she shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.” She looked back at Poe. “Fair warning, we eat shitty pizza most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as shitty pizza in New York City?” Poe asks.

“I think there’s such a thing as shitty pizza no matter where you go,” Rey said. “If you pay five dollars for an entire pizza, it’s probably not going to be that good no matter what city you’re in.”

“Fair enough,” Poe said.

Rey sat down in the armchair and drew her legs up beneath her. She covered a yawn with her hand and leaned her head against the back of the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. “Sorry if I’m terrible company. It was a long day at work and I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.”

“Where do you work?” Poe asked.

“Takodana Music,” Rey said, blinking slowly before she looked at him. “It’s honestly a good gig and my boss is awesome, but today was really quiet and it felt like it took twice as long to get through my shift as it actually did.”

“That’s up near Broadway, right?” Poe asked.

Rey smiled. “Yeah, it is. Have you been in before?”

“No, I can’t say I have, but I’ve passed it a number of times,” Poe said. “I’m in the area a lot, so…”

That made Rey pause for a moment, and her smile reappeared before she spoke again. “How’d you wind up at Battle Bean then? It’s not exactly within walking distance of the Upper West Side.”

“Don’t interrogate him,” Finn said.

Poe just laughed. “I kind of have a little bit of a problem.”

 _Yeah, and his name is Finn_ , Rey thought to herself, but she just shifted in her seat and raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“My coffee addiction is very real,” Poe said. “It’s terrible for my voice, but I can’t stop drinking it. I think I’ve been to just about every coffee shop in the city, but Battle Bean has a roast that I really like and it’s on the way to the studio from my place, so it’s a good place to stop.” He grinned at Finn. “Plus Finn knows my order, so I don’t have to worry about articulating it every time I want coffee.”

“You say that like you don’t change your order nearly every time,” Finn said.

Rey laughed as Poe made a face. “Yeah, well, you know the three things I order the most, so I only have to use one word instead of several.”

“If you say so,” Finn said. He glanced at his watch. “You said you need to be out of here by half-past six, right?”

Poe nodded “Yeah. I can’t leave BB for too long. I need to feed him before it gets too late.”

“I’m going to call for pizza, then,” Finn said, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

“BB?” Rey asked.

“My cat,” Poe said, absolutely no shame in his expression. “Beebee-Eight, or BB for short.”

Rey’s brow furrowed. “Where’d you get that name?”

Poe shrugged. “BB’s cute, and he’s the eighth pet I’ve had in my life. I’m not very creative.”

“Of course not,” Rey said, laughing. “Is he cute?”

Poe pulled out his phone. “Here, I have pictures.”

“As any respectable pet parent would,” Rey said, leaning over to take the phone when he held it out to her. She swiped from one photo of a round orange-and-white cat to the next for several minutes.

Finn came back partway through her scroll, and Rey smiled to herself after looking up through her lashes at the diminishing space on the sofa between him and Poe. No matter what Finn had said about the other man not being interested and it just being a _platonic thing_ , Poe didn’t seem to mind Finn’s proximity. In fact, he was watching Rey’s best friend with interest, though he looked away every time Finn glanced in his direction.

“Aw, he’s so cute! How old is he?” Rey asked after flipping through another few photos (both for her own amusement, because BB really was adorable, and to hide the fact that she was watching the pair).

 “He’s eight,” Poe said, taking the phone from her hand when she passed it back. He looked at the picture on the screen before locking the phone and putting it back in his pocket. “He’s been with me through a lot.”

“I wish we could have pets here, but we’re not allowed under the terms of our lease,” Rey said. “Otherwise we’d have a dog, wouldn’t we, Finn?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. “Peanut over there has wanted a dog for as long as I’ve known her, and I’d love one too.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get one, though,” Rey said, sighing. “At least, not while I’m living in the city. Dogs need green space, and Central Park just doesn’t cut it.”

“That’s why I don’t have a dog,” Poe said. “Well, that and the fact that BB can come with me when I tour, but it would be a bit difficult to bring a dog around with me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how people can keep dogs in the city. I feel bad enough keeping BB trapped in my place and he’s got a balcony to go out on whenever he wants fresh air.”

“You’ve just got to be one of those people who has a harness for their cat so they can take it on walks,” Rey said, laughing. Poe nearly did a spit-take with his beer and Rey’s eyes widened. “No way. Seriously?”

Poe swallowed and then smiled sheepishly. “He doesn’t like it very much unless I let him lead, but yeah.” Rey was still staring at him and he grinned a moment later. “I could be worse. I don’t have a pet stroller for him.”

“All right, you’re not completely crazy,” Rey said.

“You say that like you wouldn’t have one of those if we had a cat,” Finn said.

“Yeah, but we don’t have a cat, so there’s no proof of that fact,” Rey said.

“I wish we had a cat,” Finn said. “Think of how much better life would be if we had a little fur ball running around here too.”

“You can come play with BB anytime,” Poe said, looking at Finn. He started a moment later and looked at Rey. “You too, obviously. Both of you. You can both come to my place and play with him whenever you want.”

Rey covered her smile with her hand, not that Poe would have noticed because he was, once again, staring at Finn. It was sweet to see the usually-suave Poe Dameron stumbling over his words because of her best friend. Much in the way that Poe wasn’t aware of Rey’s amusement, though, it appeared that Finn hadn’t realized the other man’s fumble. As soon as Poe looked away, Finn looked over at him, his cheeks darkening.

 _Utterly ridiculous_ , Rey thought. She stood up and made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. When she returned to the living room, both men were exactly where she’d left them, save for the fact that Finn’s left hand and Poe’s right were sitting an inch apart on the cushion between them. She shook her head and settled back into the armchair, and as soon as they realized she had come back, both of them yanked their hands back into their laps.

Poe left about an hour later, after they’d all consumed more terrible pizza than they probably should have, leaving both Rey and Finn with another open invitation to come over and meet his cat whenever they wanted to. It was such a humanizing thing that Rey was almost able to forget that Grammy-award-winning artist Poe Dameron had been sitting in her living room—almost.

The door had barely closed behind Poe before she was leaning forward, her elbows braced on her knees and her hands folded beneath her chin as she looked at Finn. “Spill it.”

“Spill what?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Spill what? Come on, Finn. How the hell did _the_ Poe Dameron wind up in our apartment?”

“I invited him over for pizza,” Finn said.

“Seriously?” Rey asked. “That’s it? Really?”

Finn flushed. “Well… I may or may not have mentioned you a bunch of times when he’s come in for coffee, and today he told me that he wanted to meet you to verify that you were at least half as awesome as I made you out to be because I shouldn’t live with anyone terrible, and I may or may not have lost it because he was smiling at me and invited him over and then tried to cover it up by saying that you and I have regular pizza nights and this was one of them so he should come meet you.”

Rey slumped backward and laughed, her head and legs hanging over the arms of the chair. “I love how I’m your wingman even when I’m not physically present.”

“This isn’t like that,” Finn said.

“Sure,” Rey said, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say, Peanut.”

“Seriously,” Finn said.

“Yeah, this isn’t like that, which is exactly why he was staring at you every time you weren’t paying attention,” Rey said.

“Really?” Finn asked.

Rey tilted her head back so that he could see her grin at him. “Yeah. It was cute.”

“He is cute, isn’t he?” Finn asked, flushing again.

“More like drop-dead gorgeous,” Rey said. “And nice, and talented. You found the whole package.”

Finn had a faraway look in his eyes. “I did, didn’t I?” 

Her mind flashed to someone else who was only the former of the trio of attributes and she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest as she leaned up against the back of the chair. “Shame all celebrities aren’t that nice.”

Finn watched her for a moment, the faraway look gone. He opened his mouth as if to say something, only to snap it shut and bite his lip. After another moment he shook his head.

“We’ll just have to find you one that is,” he said. He brightened then. “Hey, Rose and I are going out tonight. You should come with us!”

Rey glanced over at him, then down at the floor. “I’ll pass.”

“Come on, Peanut, it’ll be fun,” Finn said. “We haven’t all gone out together in a while.”

“I know, but I have to be up to open the store tomorrow,” Rey said.

It was a bad excuse and she knew Finn knew it—she’d gone out plenty of times when she had to be at work the next day—but to his credit, he didn’t press. Instead, he just looked at her and then shrugged.

“All right,” he said. “Next time, then.”

“Yeah,” Rey said. “Next time, preferably when I don’t have to be up the next morning.”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” he said.

He left not long after that to go meet Rose, and for a while Rey just sat in the living room watching the sky darken. It was when the last strains of light were fading from the sky, casting the room into shadow, that she finally stood up and flicked on the lamp in the corner. On the way into her room, she turned on the hallway light as well, and it shone through the crack under her door when she shut it.

Once again, she spent the evening writing, the music sharing site open on her computer as she ran through possible riffs and scribbled lyrics down in her notebook. She had what could be a fully-fledged song by the end of the night, but just as it had so many times before, her mouse hovered over the “upload” button.

She all but slammed down the lid of her laptop, raking her hand through her hair.

It shouldn’t have been so hard for her to share her music, but it was, and she didn’t know how she would get past that. All she knew was that she had to, or she would never have the career she had dreamt of for her entire life.

That had to be enough of a motivator, right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Finn are freaking massive dorks. I don't make the rules (except I do because I'm the one writing this story I AM GOD but we're going to pretend I don't). No Kylo in this chapter, but he'll be back soon. 
> 
> Two things: 1) I survived my last first day of school (for the foreseeable future, anyway) and this semester is going to be incredibly aggravating (due to my annoyance with the last classes I have to take as core requirements for one of the schools that I'm in, not the actual difficulty of the courses), and 2) I'm writing up the rest of the plot outline for this story and it is ridiculously long. I'm at 7974 words for the outline (which admittedly includes a page and a half of character profiles and the summary of the story that's posted on here, but still) and I still have several chapters left to set up in the outline. 
> 
> (I guess this is thing three, oops) Originally there would've been more than that left for me to set up, but I decided that I'm going to be splitting this story into two parts because the second part will work better with a time jump anyway. This is why this story is now alone in the "don't wanna live as an unsung melody" series (a lyric taken from Could Have Been Me by The Struts, yes, their bassist is dating Jade from Little Mix, no, that's not why I like them). This means that you guys will be getting a part two at an unspecified later date after this is finished.
> 
> Chapter title comes from Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran because (from Finn's POV): "All I feel in my stomach is butterflies, the beautiful kind, making up for lost time, taking flight, making me feel right, I just wanna know you better now."
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos and subscriptions and bookmarks <3 You guys are the bomb. You can find me over on Tumblr at reynoverthegalaxy if you want to see me reblog all sorts of Star Wars things or catch the little posts that I make while I'm writing this story (in the tag "looking for the map that leads me home"). Also, I'll be making a playlist at some point with all of the songs that I'm using as titles in this story, so I'll link it over on my blog once it's done (I've got one for myself already, but that's on my personal Spotify and I'm kind of loathe to share it from there since my account has the username that I use for all my personal social media and I'm trying to maintain some anonymity here, but I'll figure it out).
> 
> Until next time x


	5. the secret to new york (acoustic)

For most people, having a crack in shiny veneer would always be something to look down upon, something to judge for being imperfect. For Rey, a superficial crack in the shiny veneer of a brand new acoustic guitar was something to be celebrated, because Maz knew that she would never be able to sell it to a normal customer, and rather than send it back to the manufacturer to get a new one due to damage from shipping, she sold it to Rey for less than half its suggested price.

It was another one of Maz’s decisions that Rey didn’t quite understand—selling things for absolutely no profit, for what she was pretty sure was actually a loss, would never make sense to her in the setting that they occupied—but she wasn’t going to argue with it. It would’ve taken her months to save up enough money to buy a guitar from that brand under normal circumstances, and to get one for less than some of the cheaper models from other companies went for wasn’t something that she was going to call into question.

Something that she did call into question, though, was how she was going to get the damn thing home. Sure, it was New York City and there were always people carrying all manner of things down the sidewalk or onto the subway, but a hard guitar case was both large and unwieldly and she had very little doubt that she was probably going to hit someone with it by mistake.

As she was carrying the guitar down the sidewalk after her shift, though, she was possessed by the urge to hit someone with it with full intention. Not just any someone, though, but the tall, dark-haired man walking toward her with discomfort on his face as he dodged the crowds of people that surrounded him (not that he needed to. Kylo Ren was tall enough that they would part for him without any effort on his part).

He and Rey stopped dead a few feet away from each other, and she wrapped her free arm around her stomach and stared at him—it was the closest she could get to crossing her arms with a guitar case hanging from her hand. Even in the summer heat, he was wearing a pair of dark jeans and long-sleeved black t-shirt, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the collar, the outfit a stark contrast to yet another one of Rey’s sundresses.

He wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was staring at the case, his brow furrowed, and she couldn’t call his tone anything but surprised when he spoke.

“You play?”

“No, I’m carrying a guitar case so that I can beat people with it. Of course I play, you idiot,” she snapped.

“I didn’t know that,” he said so quietly that she wondered if she wasn’t meant to hear it.

She did, though, and she laughed. “Of course not, because you’re so busy judging people for their music taste that you never actually take the time to learn something about them.”

“If you didn’t have shit taste in music I wouldn’t have to judge you,” he countered, looking up at her.

“Except I don’t have shit taste in music, but you wouldn’t know that either because, again, you’re too busy judging people for their music taste,” Rey said.

“It’s not my fault that you like Taylor Swift,” he said.

“Yeah, but it is your fault that you were an asshole about it,” Rey said. She shifted the guitar case to her other hand and tilted her head, watching him. He wasn’t saying anything, looking at something behind her, and a moment later she couldn’t help herself. “Are you ever going to come back to the industry or are you just going to lurk in random music stores and annoy the employees for the rest of your life?”

His gaze snapped to hers and his face settled into a scowl. “You’re really digging for a story, aren’t you?”

Two options were incredibly appealing to her in that moment: one, hit him with the guitar case, though that wouldn’t be fair to the guitar, or two, turn around and walk away. Despite how attractive both of those options seemed, she chose a third one, steeling herself against his glare as she spoke.

“Do you always assume the worst of people, or am I just a special case?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, only to stop a moment later. What he said next was enough to throw her for an instant.

“I’m sorry.”

She recovered quickly and was immediately ready to snark at him— _An apology from the great Kylo Ren? I’m honored_ —but she stopped at the sight of his expression. His mouth was turned down ever-so-slightly at the corners, his lower lip drawn between his teeth, and the look in his eyes was something that she knew far too well—she’d seen it from herself in the mirror more times than she could count.

Instead of replying with sarcasm, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and sighed. “I accept your apology.”

They were staring at each other then, hazel eyes locked with brown, and for the first time since she’d met him, he actually seemed human.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed like I’m prying. I’m really not trying to, I just…” She bit her lip. “You just kind of disappeared and no one had seen or heard from you in months and when I realized it was you my curiosity got the better of me. Well, my curiosity and your attitude.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly—it wasn’t a smile, but it was something other than the annoyed or angry expressions that she’d seen on his face thus far. “I’ve been told it’s my biggest flaw.”

“I’d like to give a medal to whoever said that to you,” Rey said.

He grew solemn and looked away from her for a moment. She watched him swallow and close his eyes, and then he looked back at her.

“Things with the industry are… complicated,” he said. “It’s been a while since everything happened with the band and I’m still trying to figure out what to do with myself in the meantime.” The corner of his mouth quirked up again. “Well, aside from lurking in random music stores and annoying the employees, as I think you put it.”

She smiled, and then they could have just been two acquaintances catching up with each other on a New York City sidewalk, a guitar case hanging from her hands and his tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. It was the first time she’d had an opportunity to properly look at him—the first time they had stood in front of one another without saying anything, without antagonism to ruin the moment—and she couldn’t help but bite her lower lip slightly when she realized how _broad_ he was. He was tall, anyone could see that, but he was built too, and she wondered how much time he’d spent in the gym since things fell apart with Starkiller, because he had definitely been a lot ganglier in most of the photos and videos she’d seen of the group.

She came back to herself a moment later, tearing her eyes away from where they had drifted to his chest so that she could meet his gaze once more. He was looking at her with something that could only be described as curiosity in his eyes, and she took a deep breath and spoke before she had a chance to overthink her question.

“Would you like to grab coffee sometime?” His eyes widened and she looked down at the sidewalk. “Sorry, I just—I’d like to—um—”

He wasn’t smiling, but there was amusement in the quirk of his lips when she looked up at him again. “I’d like that, yeah. I just realized that I don’t know your name, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “Right. I forgot that I don’t wear a nametag at work. I’m Rey.”

He held out his hand. “Kylo. Since I didn’t exactly introduce myself properly last time.”

She reached out to shake his hand, trying to ignore the way it felt like a spark had jumped from his skin to hers when they made contact. As soon as he released her hand, she tucked her arm behind her back and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“So, coffee then?” she asked. “Not today, because I really do need to get this thing home,” she lifted the guitar case slightly, “but later this week?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

She removed her arm from behind her back and held her hand out. “Can I have your phone?” He stared at her and she smiled. “So I can text myself so that we have each other’s numbers to figure this out?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it before passing it to her.

She typed out a quick “Hi” to herself and sent the message before handing the phone back to him. Their fingers brushed again and she swallowed before she looked up at him once more.

“Isn’t it fun ending a conversation without being deeply annoyed at the other person?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“I’ll, um,” she bit her lip, “I’ll text you, yeah? About when I can meet you?”

“That sounds good,” he said.

“Right,” she said. “Well, bye.”

“Bye,” he said, that quirk back on his lips as he looked at her.

She stepped around him, sliding her aviators off of her head and onto her face. As she walked down the sidewalk, she said a silent thank-you to the universe for keeping the sunglasses from getting caught in her hair as they so often did, and then another one for letting her talk to Kylo Ren without the entire conversation turning into an argument.

She didn’t quite know what had possessed her to invite him to get coffee with her—seriously, what was she _thinking?_ —but he didn’t seem so bad when he wasn’t insulting her music choices or snapping at her for asking him a simple question. Hell, he’d even apologized to her, and she got the impression that that wasn’t something he did often.

Somehow she managed to avoid hitting anyone with the guitar case on her way home, though not without a few close calls, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the door to her apartment and fished her keys out of her bag. She could smell cinnamon from the hallway, and she inhaled appreciatively as she pushed the door open and hung her bag up on the hook.

“What’s today’s creation?” she asked, kicking her sandals off and leaning the guitar case up against the wall.

Rose poked her head out from the kitchen and smiled. “Cinnamon rolls and snickerdoodles.”

“Ah, the classics,” Rey said. “I still say that they should let you sell the cinnamon rolls at Battle Bean. They’d be a total hit.”

“Maybe one day,” Rose said. “That would be kind of full-circle, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Rey said.

Rose nodded in the direction of the guitar case. “New toy?”

“Yeah,” Rey said. “It came in with a crack in the veneer running all the way down the middle of the back, so Maz let me buy it for a truly ridiculously low price.” She looked over at the couch where Finn sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his gaze locked on his phone. “What is he doing?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “He’s been that way ever since we finished our shift.”

“Poe?” Rey asked.

Rose nodded. “Poe.” She laughed. “He didn’t come in today, so I guess they’ve got plenty to catch up on, but it’s literally been three hours that he’s been like that.”

Rey grinned. “I’m not even going to bother saying hi, then.”

“That’s probably a wise choice,” Rose said. She looked over at Finn. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but he never did that when we were together.”

“I can’t say he did, no,” Rey said.

Rose smiled. “It’s probably a good thing we broke up, then. I wouldn’t dream of keeping him from the great and wonderful Poe Dameron.”

“As though any of us could keep anyone else from the great and wonderful Poe Dameron,” Rey said. “His fan base is pretty intense.”

“I don’t know,” Rose said. “He seems pretty into our dear friend over there, so…”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Rey asked. She glanced at her roommate and smiled. “It’s good to see him so happy, even if it means he’s ignoring me in the process.”

Still, as she followed Rose into the kitchen so that she could grab something to eat—or, more plainly, so that she could swipe cinnamon roll icing out of the bowl when Rose wasn’t looking—Rey’s thoughts were centered on a dark-haired celebrity whose name definitely wasn’t Poe Dameron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I have nothing against Finnrose and actually do ship it, but I also hardcore ship Stormpilot, hence the situation in this story. 
> 
> I should really be stockpiling updates here so that I can post things regularly as opposed to whenever they're done, but I'm just having too much fun with this (and enjoying everyone's reactions to it way too much) to stop. We'll see how long this actually lasts though because I'm going to have to implement some sort of discipline in regards to my posting schedule at some point.
> 
> Chapter title is The Secret to New York (acoustic version) by We The Kings: "Baby, it's over now, maybe my ups are all downtown, so far away, I'm too lost to be found." It's more for Kylo than Rey, but at least my space son is being a little less of an asshole in this chapter than he was during his last couple of appearances.
> 
> Thanks again for the comments and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions—it makes my day when I wake up to those AO3 emails in my inbox and I love talking to you guys.
> 
> Until next time x


	6. make something beautiful

Even though it was totally unnecessary—even though it would’ve been significantly easier for her to meet Kylo after work one day somewhere close to the store—Rey set up their coffee date (except it wasn’t a date) for a day when she didn’t have to go in for a shift. On the one hand, it let her meet him earlier so that she wouldn’t be drinking caffeine right before dinner, but on the other, it took her well over an hour to get from her apartment to the coffee shop that they’d chosen uptown.

It all seemed very uncharacteristic for her over the course of the morning. She fretted over her appearance in the mirror for over half an hour before she finally stepped away, pulled on the nearest dress (conveniently one of her nicer ones), and told herself that it didn’t matter what she wore, they were only getting coffee because she was curious and he’d said yes. Impressing him wasn’t something that she needed to be concerned about.

Choosing to meet somewhere other than Battle Bean was another thing out of the ordinary. Under any other circumstances, she absolutely would have met someone she didn’t know well at a café where she knew several members of the staff who could bail her out if something went wrong. Under the circumstances of meeting Kylo, though, going to Battle Bean seemed like a terrible idea. Not only would it prompt questions from Finn (and in that setting, even one question was too many questions), but it was a busy spot frequented by all manner of people, and neither she nor Kylo needed media attention—at least, she figured he didn’t.

Instead, they had agreed to meet at a coffee shop near Columbia, though not close enough to the university that it would be a regular hangout spot for any students. She’d been there before with Finn, not long after she’d moved to the city, and was pleased to see its facade hadn’t changed as she made her way down the sidewalk.

He was already there when she entered, and she stopped just inside the doorway as he stood up from the seat he’d been occupying at the counter along the window, watching as his body unfolded so that he could tower above everyone else. He was still wearing black—it was the fourth time she’d seen him and she was beginning to think he didn’t own any other colors—but the sleeves of his long-sleeved t-shirt were rolled up to show most of his forearms, and she let her eyes wander over the canvas of color on his skin as he walked toward her.

She smiled up at him when he stopped in front of her, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted at the sight of him. “Hey.”

That quirk of his lips was back again. “Hi.”

She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, suddenly hyperaware of and regretting the fact that she hadn’t done anything other than run a brush through it. “Have you already…” She gestured toward the counter.

He shook his head. “I only beat you here by a few minutes. I just didn’t want to stand around and take up space while I waited.”

She could understand that. Even sitting down, it looked like he had attracted plenty of attention—even if people didn’t know who he really was, he certainly cut an imposing enough figure to be noticeable, and the black clothing certainly didn’t help—and a couple of people were still watching them curiously, as if to ascertain why someone like him was with someone like her.

Well, at least if he tried to kill her there would be witnesses.

She came out of her thoughts to see him looking at her, his brow furrowed. Offering a sheepish smile, she made eye contact with him. “Sorry?”

“I just asked if you wanted to order, that’s all,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” she said.

He gestured toward the counter. “After you.”

There was no line, and after they’d ordered their drinks—English breakfast tea with milk and honey for her, a breve for him—they sat down at one of the tables by the wall of windows which were unencumbered by counter seating.

His features were more prominent with the light hitting one side of his face more intensely than it did the other, and she couldn’t help but look at him for a moment. It shouldn’t have worked—almost every part of his face would have been awkward on anyone else—but the longer she looked at him, the more in synergy his features appeared, and those _eyes_ … She could write a song about those eyes.

He didn’t seem to mind her looking at him, as he was doing his fair share of staring too. Neither of them moved until the barista called their names, and then they both jolted.

“I’ll get it,” he said, already getting up.

She didn’t try to stop him, too busy watching him as he walked away. As much as she would have enjoyed seeing him in something other than black, she couldn’t help letting her eyes roam appreciatively over his back, the muscles of it just barely visible beneath his shirt. Really, she couldn’t complain about his clothing choices. They may have been a bit (or a lot) monochromatic, but it was a vast improvement from what he’d worn as a part of Starkiller—she may not have been a fan of the band, but she’d seen enough of the promotional photos to hope that she never had the misfortune to see those outfits in person.

“I was expecting you to order something sweeter, honestly,” he said when he returned, setting her drink in front of her before he slipped back into his seat.

She took a sip from her tea, sighing appreciatively at the quality before raising her eyebrows. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, a latte heavy on the syrups or something,” he said.

“I was expecting you to order the blackest of black coffees, so I guess we’re even,” she said. She traced her finger around the rim of her mug. “And this is sweet, just in a different way.”

“So long as we’re in the business of defying expectations, why don’t you fill me in on this broad music taste of yours?” he asked, watching her over the edge of his mug as he sipped from his drink. “Since you insist it goes beyond Taylor Swift and bubblegum pop.”

She rolled her eyes, though there wasn’t any real annoyance in the movement, and took another drink before she replied. “I like everything from The Saints to Bruce Springsteen to Anti-Flag to Hozier and The Lumineers and your absolute favorite person, Taylor Swift.” She sat back in her chair and shrugged. “There’s this feeling that I get when I listen to good music, and as long as it gives me that feeling, I’ll probably like it.”

“What have you been into lately?” he asked.

“The Wombats, mainly,” she said. “I’ve had them on a lot recently, just ‘cause I’ve been in the mood. It’s probably annoying everyone who comes into the store, but I have control over the music, so…” She glanced down at her outfit, her gaze traveling over the daisies patterned on the skirt of her dress, and smiled. “I don’t look like I should like the bands that I do, but that’s other people’s problem for assuming, not mine.”

“Should I be offended?” he asked.

She just tilted her head and looked at him. “Are you going to continue assuming that you know things about me without any evidence to back them up other than my appearance?” He shook his head and she grinned. “I think you’re good, then.” She stirred her drink for a moment, looking at him through her lashes. “Do I pass muster now? Is my music taste acceptable?”

“More than,” he said. “I was expecting you to say something like Katy Perry.” She made a face and he raised his eyebrows. “Not a fan?”

“I mean, I don’t have a problem with her, per se,” Rey said. “Some of her songs are really catchy and Hot N Cold will always be a defining song of the aughts, but if you’re asking if I’d go out and buy her new album or try to get tickets to her concert, the answer is no.”

“Thank god,” he said. She looked at him and he shrugged. “If you’d said you actually like her, I would’ve had to get up and leave.”

“Oh, so I haven’t driven you away yet?” Rey asked, bringing her mug back to her lips.

“I’m afraid not, no,” he said. “I hope that’s all right.”

“I guess you’re not completely terrible, so it’s fine,” Rey said.

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he shook his head. “I have to say that I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

“As my best friend likes to say when introducing me to people, I’m special,” Rey said, grinning.

“I can see that,” Kylo said. He tilted his head slightly, watching her for a moment. “So, did you pick up that guitar just because, or…”

“Well, partly,” Rey said. “It’s got a crack in the finish and my boss offered it to me at such a good price that I really couldn’t refuse, but it was also because I need better instruments if I’m ever going to get anywhere.”

“Have you been playing long?” he asked.

She sobered slightly. “I was started in piano lessons when I was five, but I didn’t start playing the guitar until I was nine.” She brightened then. “I’ve picked up a lot of stuff along the way, though, and one of my friends is a drummer so he helps out when I need it.”

“Is that often?” Kylo asked.

Rey shook her head. “I’ve gotten pretty good at using a pedal over the last couple of years, so I usually just do percussion on my guitar or something like that.” She took a sip of her tea. “I had to make music on my own for so long that I’m kind of used to doing it that way at this point. Working at Takodana has been nice because it’s let me buy instruments like that guitar so that I don’t have to find other people and get them to help me whenever I record something.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows. “Do you go to a studio?”

Rey laughed. “I wish. No, I record on my laptop with the help of a handy-dandy desk mic and the quality is shit, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, right?” She made a face. “My best friend wants me to film YouTube videos too instead of just recording things and leaving them on my laptop, but…”

“But?” Kylo asked.

 “It’s going to sound stupid when I say it,” Rey said.

Kylo just looked at her. “Try me.”

“My best friend says that a lot of people have made it big off of YouTube, and it’s true that some people have started their careers on there,” Rey said. “At the same time, though… For every one of those people there’s ten thousand with a hundred subscribers who will never get their big break, and I’d rather hedge my bets on a recording contract where I’m guaranteed the distribution network and the radio connections and everything else than be stuck as one of those people with three thousand subscribers who never gets any bigger than that.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Kylo said.

“It’s just, I want to make music that matters,” Rey said. “You know? I want to make music that reaches right into the heart of people and makes them fall in love with it even if they don’t quite know exactly why. I want to write songs that send a shiver down people’s spines when they hear them. I want to write the song that’s a couple’s first dance.” She took a deep breath and looked out the window. “I just… I want it to mean something, and I know I should feel good if it means something to even one person, but I want it to reach further than that.” She looked up to see him watching her and ducked her head. “I sound ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” he said. “So that’s the dream, then?”

“Yeah, it is,” she said. “I’ve wanted it since I was ten.” She laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just like everyone else, I’m sure.”

“Maybe, but your reasons are real,” he said. “So many people want to get into the industry because they think they’ll become rock stars and make a load of money, but it doesn’t always work out that way.” He finished his drink and shrugged. “There’s plenty of people who are doing well enough for themselves without being household names, and the only way you can be okay with that is if you’re doing it because you love your art.”

“I’d like to be a household name,” Rey said. “At the same time, though, I’ll be happy if I can just make a living doing what I love.” He was looking at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

“I haven’t heard anyone talk about music that way in a long time,” he said.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I have an unfortunate tendency to wax poetic when asked about it.”

“I don’t think it’s unfortunate,” he said. “Have you made any moves to get in with a label yet, or…”

She drank what was left of her tea and grimaced. “See, that’s where the problem is.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Most people would be happy with any label, but I have one very specific one in mind,” she said, looking out the window once more. “I want to work with Rebellion Records, and I won’t go for anything less unless they tell me that they’ll never listen to me and I should never contact them again.”

She looked back to see that his entire body had gone stiff in his chair, his jaw tight. It wasn’t a reaction that she had been expecting, and all she could do was stare at him. He’d been signed to First Order Records when he’d been a part of Starkiller, she knew that, and First Order was Rebellion’s greatest competition. Artists from each label didn’t even speak to one another, the rivalry was so great.

He softened as she watched him, leaning forward slightly to rest his forearms on the table. Her gaze dropped to the ink on his skin once again, and she followed the lines, drawing her lip between her teeth.

“Never seen a tattoo before?”

She looked up to see him watching her, the corner of his mouth quirked up, and flushed again. “Sorry, I just—it’s really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said. “On behalf of the artist, I suppose, but I’d hope it’s beautiful since I’m stuck with it for the rest of my life.”

“Do you not like it?” she asked, her gaze returning to his arms.

“No, I do, it’s just,” he touched his left arm with his right hand, “I’ve had it for so long that I don’t really think about it anymore.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Rey said. She glanced up at his face. “They are beautiful, though.”

“I have to say I’m a bit surprised that you don’t mind them,” he said.

“Little miss bubblegum pop, right?” she asked. He nodded and she smiled. “They’re a form of art just like anything else. I hate bad tattoos, but good ones? Those I can admire.”

“Well,” he said. “I hope one day I’ll be able to hear your art.”

She rested her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t until she got home that she realized that she hadn’t learned anything of significance about him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were not supposed to flirt this much in this chapter but it's their story and I'm just telling it so we're going to roll with it and hope for the best lol. I'm already about halfway through the next chapter but I don't know when I'll finish it because I need to go help with dinner and I am freaking exhausted right now. It should be soon, though.
> 
> Chapter title is "Make Something Beautiful" by Ben Rector: "Please let me make something beautiful, a thing that reminds us there's good in the world, a thing that reminds us there's still something out there worth fighting for."
> 
> You can find me over on Tumblr at reynoverthegalaxy, where there is plenty of Star Wars and some rambling about this story, if that's something you care to see.
> 
> Until next time x


	7. greek tragedy

Rey hadn’t heard anything from Kylo since their coffee date almost a week ago (she hated calling it a date, but what else did you call meeting up with someone for coffee?), but she didn’t have a problem with that. They parted on good terms, and he’d been incredibly respectful about the fact that she’d given him her phone number—respectful in the sense that he didn’t text her unless she texted him first, at least.

She didn’t know what to make of him, really. There was no denying that he’d been the front man of an extremely questionable band for the better part of a decade, but it was hard to reconcile the image of Kylo Ren on the cover of Starkiller’s albums with the Kylo that had listened to her ramble about music and let her stare at his tattoos without taking offense, especially when he hadn’t given her any real details about himself.

It was something that she tried not to think about too much, but, despite her best attempts to avoid dwelling on it, she was wrapped up in thoughts of him and how much she wanted to map every piece of color on his skin with her fingers rather than her eyes when she walked into the kitchen on the morning of her next day off, only to stop dead at the sight of one very shirtless Poe Dameron standing in front of the sink drinking a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Rey!” he said, smiling at her.

He didn’t seem to be especially bothered by the fact that he was standing in front of her half-clothed, or that she was just standing there staring at him—one, because he was standing in front of her half-clothed, and two, because he seemed way too chipper for nine o’clock on a Thursday. Instead, he took another sip of his coffee and continued to smile at her. She blinked at him for a few moments before she shook her head slightly and reached for the kettle.

“Hey, Poe.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I ate one of your bagels,” he said. “I told Finn I’d bring some more for you guys the next time I come over.”

“Um, that’s… fine?” Rey said, filling the kettle. She set it back on its stand and flipped the switch to turn it on, leaning up against the counter behind her and covering a yawn with her hand.

The silence was comfortable as they stood there, Poe drinking his coffee and Rey waiting for the water to boil so that she could make herself a cup of tea, and the peace wasn’t broken until Finn walked in a few minutes later.

“Poe, I—Rey!” Finn stopped in the doorway. “I, um, didn’t know that you weren’t working today. Poe’s just—”

Rey made a shooing motion at him with her hand and he stopped talking. “He said he’d get us more bagels, so he can stay over whenever he wants.” She covered another yawn. “And I thought I told you that I wasn’t working today.” A moment later, she looked at him. “Actually, I definitely did, ‘cause Rose was over making those scones and I told you and you said okay, but you were on your phone so I guess you didn’t actually hear me.”

“I was—” Finn looked at Poe.

Rey smiled. “I know exactly what you were doing and it’s fine.” She ran her hand through her hair, wincing at it caught on the knots of her bedhead. “Poe, mind passing me the mug that’s on the counter over there?”

He passed her a mug that read _Everyone is entitled to my opinion_ and smiled. “Cute mug.”

“She collects them,” Finn said. “If you ever want to know what to buy her for her birthday or a holiday, a silly mug is the correct answer.”

“They’re fun,” Rey said, dropping a teabag into the mug and pouring boiling water over it. “I enjoy getting a bit of a laugh while I’m trying to wake up.” She reached for the loaf of bread on the counter and sliced a couple of pieces off of it, dropping them in the toaster and turning it on.

“Fun things are good,” Poe said. His eyes lit up a moment later. “Oh, you know what would be fun? I’m getting lunch with a friend today and you two should come!”

“I’m up for it,” Finn said without hesitation. “I don’t have to be at work til three.” He glanced at Rey. “Peanut?”

She shook her head. “I’d like to, but Rose and I are going to get lunch and try to go the Met afterward. We haven’t hung out just the two of us in a while, or I’d just tell her to come join all of us, assuming you’d be okay with that, Poe.”

“I’d love to have Rose around too,” he said. “But I understand. Next time.”

Rey smiled. “Absolutely.”

She meant it, too. While there was sure to be some media scrutiny—Poe wasn’t stalked by the paparazzi, exactly, but they took advantage of the situation when someone new appeared in his life—it would be somewhat difficult for the press to spin the story to say that she was dating him if they were out with a group of friends that included more women than just her.

Besides, Rose would definitely be up for going out with him, and she proved as much when Rey described the morning to her as they sat down in a small bistro a few hours later.

“He _what?_ ” Rose asked.

Rey shrugged. “I was asleep by the time that Finn got home last night, so I don’t know if Poe came home with him or came over later, but he definitely spent the night.”

“Dude,” Rose said, sitting back in her chair, eyes wide. “Do you know how many girls would kill to get an eyeful of a shirtless Poe Dameron first thing in the morning?”

Rey laughed and reached for the sugar. She stirred some into her iced tea as she spoke. “I honestly didn’t really look at him that much. I was too tired and too shocked to register anything other than that he was standing in my kitchen and not wearing a shirt.” Shaking her head, she grinned. “Well, that and the fact that he is way too peppy first thing in the morning.”

“Nothing like you, then,” Rose said.

“Obviously,” Rey said. “You’ll like this, though—he invited me and Finn out for lunch today with him and a friend.” Rose’s eyes widened. “I told him no because you and I haven’t hung out together in ages, but we’re both welcome to join next time.”

“You got me an invite to lunch with Poe Dameron,” Rose said. “I can’t even.”

“I have a feeling he’d probably let us invite pretty much anyone,” Rey said. “He doesn’t seem overly fussed by that sort of thing.” Sobering, she looked at Rose. “You have to promise that you won’t freak out at him whenever we go out.”

“Like I would,” Rose said. “I’ve met him before.” She met Rey’s gaze. “What?”

“Rose, you know I love you, but restraining yourself for the five minutes that he’s in the store to get a drink is a little different than restraining yourself for several hours,” Rey said.

“I can do it,” Rose said. “You know I’ve met all kinds of people at work.”

“That’s true, but you’re also very excitable,” Rey said. “I fully trust your ability to get past the fact that Poe is Poe Dameron. What we’ll have to go through to get past that is a different story altogether.”

“Your lack of faith disturbs me,” Rose said.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Rey said, grinning.

“Someday,” Rose said. She brightened, sitting up in her chair. “I have news.”

“What kind of news?” Rey asked.

“Good news,” Rose said. “I guess Sam was talking to Jyn and Cassian about expanding the range of food that we sell so that it isn’t just granola bars and stuff, and I get to start baking things for the store. They’re paying me extra for it and everything.”

Rey’s eyes widened. “Rose! You couldn’t have told me this when I got here?”

“It’s nothing compared to Poe Dameron being shirtless in your kitchen,” Rose said. “And it’s nothing big yet, just some muffins and stuff, but at least it’s something.”

“It’s everything compared to Poe Dameron being shirtless in my kitchen,” Rey said. “This is actual experience that you can actually use whenever you apply at restaurants and bakeries. That’s incredible.”

Rose blushed. “Like I said, it’s nothing big.”

“It’s bigger than you making people’s overly-complicated lattes for the rest of your life,” Rey said. “That seems pretty big to me. When do you start?”

“Monday,” Rose said. “And I get to use the store kitchen, so at least I don’t have to worry about trying to bake in my apartment and then haul everything over there.” She made a face. “I’ll have to be up early so I can have everything done before we open, but that’s a small price to pay. It actually kind of makes me thankful that the shoebox is so close to the store.”

“Are you going to have to work rotating shifts still?” Rey asked.

Rose shrugged. “Maybe. Sam said he’ll try to get me staffed early when possible so that I don’t have to run back and forth, but it might be nice to be able to go home and get a few more hours of sleep before I have to come in and work again.”

“I could see that,” Rey said. “Still, consistency can be really nice. Even if you have to get up early, your body might appreciate having a routine.”

“True,” Rose said. “Promise you’ll come by on Monday? I’ll make sure Sam saves you a muffin.”

“Absolutely,” Rey said. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

They went to the Met after lunch—it was something that they tried to do at least semi-regularly, given that new exhibits were added often enough to keep it interesting. With Rey’s appreciation of all things artistic and Rose’s soft spot for history, the pair always found a visit to the museum significantly more fun than Finn did. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, but the frequency with which they visited was a little too much for him.

They were standing in front of John Singer Sargent’s “Madame X” for what had to have been the twentieth time since Rey had moved to New York when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

> _Would you care to do lunch next week?_

She stared down at the message, heat rising to her cheeks, before she typed out a quick response.

**> _Can’t, I have to work every day. Dinner?_**

_> Absolutely. _

_> Wednesday at six?_

**_> Make it 7 so I can go home first and you have a deal_ **

_> Seven it is._

_> I’ll text you the details later._

**_> Sounds good!_ **

She couldn’t help but wonder if the exclamation point was too much as she slipped her phone back into her pocket and looked back at the painting. For a brief moment—too brief—it was quiet, and then—

“Who was that?”

Rey keep her gaze locked on the painting. “Nobody.”

“It was totally not nobody,” Rose said. “I’d say I know that face but I totally don’t know that face because it’s a new one. That was definitely a guy.”

“What makes you say that?” Rey asked.

“You’re blushing, for starters,” Rose said. “And I haven’t seen that face before because you haven’t been properly interested in anyone since you moved here.”

“It’s not—I’m not—” Rey sighed. “If I tell you, you have to swear that you won’t say anything to Finn about it, okay?”

“Obviously,” Rose said. “Now come on, spill!”

“It is a guy,” Rey said. “It’s not how you’re thinking of it, though.”

“Of course not,” Rose said, deadpan. “It’s totally platonic, which is definitely the reason why you were blushing.”

“Rose,” Rey said.

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Fine.”

“It’s nothing,” Rey said. “I barely know him. He’s just…”

“Just what?” Rose prompted.

“He was a customer and he seemed like a really massive asshole the first couple of times I met him, but then I ran into him again a couple weeks ago and he apologized,” Rey said. “We got coffee last week and he’s actually… Well, I don’t know what he is. He’s not very talkative about himself.” She smiled and shook her head. “He listened to me talk without looking massively bored, though, and that’s not exactly common.”

“Anyone who gets bored listening to you talk just isn’t passionate about anything,” Rose said. “Is he good-looking?”

For a moment, all Rey could see was broad shoulders, dark hair, and blue and purple ink entwined with black. She jolted when Rose’s fingers snapped in front of her face.

“Sorry,” Rey said, heat rushing to her cheeks once again.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Rose said, laughing.

“Yeah,” Rey said. “He’s very… I don’t know how to describe him. You’d have to see him for it to make sense.”

“I hope I’ll see him,” Rose said. “My friend very well can’t have a boyfriend who doesn’t meet all of her friends.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Rey said. “I don’t know if I’d even call him a friend.”

“Sure,” Rose said. “What was he texting you about?”

“He wanted to get lunch next week, but I’m working every day,” Rey said.

“Damn,” Rose said. “That’s it?”

Rey looked back at the painting, avoiding Rose’s gaze. “We’re getting dinner instead.”

Rose laughed. “And he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s not,” Rey said. “All we did last week was talk. Well, I talked and he listened, mostly, but it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah, but you like him,” Rose said.

“Not like that,” Rey said. “I mean, he’s nice to look at, but I don’t know him well enough to be interested in him in any serious way.”

“Which means you might be once you get to know him better,” Rose said, her grin visible in Rey’s peripheral vision.

Rey turned to stare at her. “You’re really stuck on the idea of me liking someone, aren’t you?”

Rose shrugged. “Finn’s got Poe and you haven’t even gone on a date since you moved here, and don’t even think about saying that Liam counted because you guys talked for like two days and the only time you ever went out was with me and Finn and I sat between you guys.”

“I did go out with him though,” Rey said.

“Barely,” Rose said. “You didn’t even like him. Every time I said his name you just kind of nodded. You go all red every time you talk about your mysterious customer.”

“I do not,” Rey said.

“Okay, not completely, but you definitely blush,” Rose said. “But sure, I’ll go with what you said. It’s nothing.”

“Thank you,” Rey said as they finally walked away from the painting.

“Just make sure you tell me when you guys kiss.”

“Rose!”

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I said I probably wouldn't update until tomorrow at the earliest, but here we are hahahaha. I was going to go out this morning to see a friend but I decided against it cause I still have the world's most messed-up sleep pattern and I woke up late (she didn't know I was coming so it's not a letdown on her part), so you guys get a chapter instead.
> 
> Rey is so in denial and Rose is totally all of us when we have that friend who refuses to admit that they like someone that we all know they like. I live for it.
> 
> Chapter title is "Greek Tragedy" by The Wombats: "I hate this feeling but I love this part, she really wants to make it work and I clearly want to let it start." It was originally supposed to be something else and Greek Tragedy was supposed to come later but I've been rearranging/replacing future chapter titles for the last two days so we'll see how much I wind up changing the later ones between now and when they're posted (hopefully not a ton as I own a lot of songs and going through all of them takes a long time).
> 
> Also, I'd just like to give a shout-out to Rian Johnson and the official Star Wars Twitter, aka the captain and first mate of the S.S. Reylo, for giving us so many beautiful things over the last couple of days. It has been delightful.
> 
> A million and one thank-yous to everyone who has commented and subscribed and bookmarked and left kudos (or found me on Tumblr (I'm reynoverthegalaxy over there) to talk about this story). I'd write this either way but you guys make it so much more fun and keep me motivated, so that's always fun.
> 
> Until next time x


	8. please forgive me

“Where did you say you were going, again?”

Rey paused, the mascara wand inches from her eyelashes. “I didn’t.” She wiggled the wand into the roots of her eyelashes and pulled it out, tilting her head slightly as she eyed her reflection to ensure that the fresh coat of mascara looked how she wanted it to before she put the wand back into the tube and dropped it back into the drawer beneath the bathroom sink.

Finn’s reflection appeared in the mirror as he leaned up against the doorframe of the bathroom. “And why didn’t you say?”

“Because I don’t think it matters,” Rey said, reaching for her hairbrush. “But if you have to know, I’m getting dinner with a friend.”

“Have I met this friend?” Finn asked.

“No,” Rey said. “Well, I don’t think you have, anyway. I don’t think he’s been into Battle Bean.”

“He?” Finn asked.

“Yes, he,” Rey said.

“What’s his name?” Finn asked.

Rey turned around, the hairbrush clattering against the countertop. “What’s with the third degree?”

“What’s with the overly defensive responses?” Finn countered. The annoyance in his voice had faded when he spoke again. “You know I worry about you, Peanut.”

Rey picked up her hairbrush again. “Sorry, I just… His name is… Kyle. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

If Finn noticed that she’d paused before offering up a name, he didn’t say anything. Instead he tilted his head, watching her reflection in the mirror as she finished running the brush through her hair, loosening the day’s curls into waves. “Probably because you’re getting dinner with a guy and that usually means it’s a date.”

“Wait, what?” Rey whipped around to stare at him. “What do you mean, it’s usually a date?”

Finn stared at her for a moment, his eyes widening. “Oh, god, Rey. What happened?”

“He asked me to lunch this week and I said I couldn’t because I had to work every day but I could do dinner,” Rey said. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you laughing?”

Finn wiped at his eyes, smiling and shaking his head. “He was probably trying to ease into it and then you basically said ‘yeah, I want to go out with you.’ You might want to clarify that with him if this really is a just friends thing.” Rey didn’t say anything and he raised one eyebrow—for the life of her, she still couldn’t do that no matter how hard she tried. “Is it a just friends thing?”

“I mean, I think so,” Rey said. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to avoid making eye contact with Finn. “He’s attractive as sin, but I don’t, like, like him or anything.”

“Sure,” Finn said. “That’s not why you’re blushing, obviously.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging at different sections of hair to make them lay how she wanted. “You sound just like Rose.”

“Well, we did date for a reason,” Finn said. “And she is my best friend other than you, so we were bound to pick some things up from one another.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’ll be careful, right?”

“Obviously,” Rey said. “It’s not like I’ve never met him before.” Finn’s eyes narrowed and she sighed. “I met him at the store. This isn’t some sleazy internet guy or anything like that.”

“If you’re sure,” Finn said. “Just text me if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, yeah? Actually…” He stepped into the bathroom and took Rey’s phone off the counter, ignoring her sound of indignation. After unlocking it and typing something in, he locked it and set it back on the counter. “There. If he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, text me, Rose, and Poe, so that I know you have multiple options if you need somewhere to go.”

“Okay, big brother,” Rey said. “Wait, you didn’t even look at your phone. Do you have his number memorized?” Finn ducked his head and she laughed. “Oh my god, you do.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Finn asked.

Rey glanced at her watch, only to tense. “Shit, I do.”

Finn stepped aside to let her out of the bathroom, trailing behind her as she dropped things—lip balm, her wallet, her keys—into her one suitable cross-body bag (meaning the only one that wasn’t scuffed or ripped somewhere). She stopped at the door and tugged on her coat, running through a mental checklist to make sure she had everything she needed, and then nodded, reaching for the doorknob.

“Be safe,” Finn said as she pulled the door open.

“I will,” Rey said.

She kept her earbuds in for the duration of the subway ride, drumming her fingers against her thigh in time with the beat, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere above the heads of the passengers on the seats opposite hers. One stop after another, the cast of characters around her shifted, until she became part of that rotating group and departed the subway at a station near Central Park.

The restaurant Kylo had chosen wasn’t too far away from Battle Bean, which meant that, if need be, Rey could go to the coffee shop and hide out. She didn’t think that would be a problem—she’d met Kylo enough times and he seemed normal enough—but life had taught her that not everyone was as they first appeared, and being prepared never hurt.

The European-style bistro was one that she had walked past more than once during her travels to and from Battle Bean, but she’d never been inside. She couldn’t help the small smile that formed on her face when she pushed the door open and stepped into the restaurant, shrugging out of her coat as the door shut behind her.

The restaurant was split-level and cozy, the lighting soft and the walls decorated with artwork that, upon closer inspection, had prices written on the information cards. There couldn’t have been more than six tables—all booths—meant for more than two people, and the two-person tables dotted throughout the space had mosaics covering their surface. A small bar ran along the right side of the lower half of the room, and she watched as the bartender poured drinks for a couple, laughing at something they said.

It seemed like a place meant for regulars, something that should be tucked away on the ground floor of a house in some quiet neighborhood somewhere, rather than shoved on the ground floor of a building in Manhattan. As out of place as it seemed, Rey couldn’t help but revel in how comfortable it was.

A waiter approached her—there didn’t seem to be a host or hostess of any kind—and with a jolt, she realized she was still standing at the bottom of the few stairs that led up into the restaurant. She stepped up onto the lower level, meeting the waiter’s gaze.

“Table for one?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m meeting someone. I’m actually a little late, um…”

“Name?” the waiter asked, smiling slightly.

“Kylo,” Rey said. “I think.”

The waiter’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly. “Ah! If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

She followed him through the restaurant and up the steps to the upper level at the back half of the space. There, tucked behind a wall and hidden from the front of the restaurant, were three tables. Two were occupied by couples, while the third had only one person sitting at it.

“Thank you,” Rey said over her shoulder to the waiter, her eyes locked on Kylo as he stood up. His dark hair was perfect (as usual), and he wore black jeans and a dark blue sweater. It was the first time she’d seen him in anything other than all black, and while a part of her mourned the fact that she couldn’t see any of the ink on his arms, she couldn’t help biting her lip at the sight of him. Color, no matter how dark it was, definitely suited him.

His gaze traveled down her body and she bit her lip. The outfit she’d chosen—black t-shirt dress, an oversized sweater in a shade that could only be described as army green, black tights, and black Chelsea-style boots—was one that she was comfortable in, one that she’d worn a hundred times which was more than appropriate for the setting they were in, but her entire body felt stiff as he gave her a once-over, her hand clenched around the strap of her bag where it hung off her shoulder.

He didn’t say anything when his gaze met hers again, but she swore she saw approval in his expression. For a moment they just looked at each other, and then he was gesturing at the chair opposite the one he’d been sitting in.

“Would you like to sit?”

“That would probably be smart, wouldn’t it?” Rey said. She sat down, hanging her bag off the seat back, and tilted her head as he took a seat. He was watching her still, and after a moment she laughed. “Hi, Kylo.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Hi, Rey.”

She looked back over her shoulder, taking in the restaurant. “This place is great. Good choice.”

“Have you been here before?”

Shaking her head, she looked back at him. “I’ve walked past a million times, but I’ve never been in before. Being here is making me wish I had, though.”

“I consider myself privileged to be able to introduce you to the place, then,” he said. “I don’t come here often, but it’s always nice when I do.”

“I’m going to trust you to steer me in the right direction with the menu, then,” Rey said.

“Everything here is good, so I doubt that will be an issue, but I’d be happy to assist you,” he said.

They made small talk until halfway through their meal when Rey wasn’t able to hold it in any longer. He was in the middle of removing a mussel from its shell, the mollusks swimming in the restaurant’s classic white wine sauce, and she watched as he set the empty shell aside in the bowl meant for them before she spoke.

“How did you get started in the industry?” she asked. He froze for a moment, and then she watched as his expression closed, his jaw tightening and eyes narrowing as he looked up at her. She bit her lip, shrinking back slightly in her chair against the coolness radiating off of him. “I, um… You don’t have to tell me anything about what happened with—with Starkiller. I just—I’d love to know how you got into music in the first place, since you listened to me ramble about it last time we met, that’s all.”

He softened slightly at her statement, warmth returning to the air around him, though there was still something guarded in his expression. She tucked her hair behind her ear, ducking her head. “I didn’t mean to prod a sore spot, sorry. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m just a little… defensive about some topics. What do you want to know?”

She glanced up at him. “I don’t know, just… What was your first instrument? When did you start playing? When did you know this was what you wanted to do?”

He was quiet for a few moments, and she watched his throat move as he swallowed. When he finally spoke, it sounded as though he had weighed every word carefully. “I grew up surrounded by people who made music, so I had instruments in my hands as soon as I had the dexterity to hold them. I took to some better than others, but I’ve been playing a few things for almost the entirety of my life. Primarily the guitar and bass, but some other things too.” He took a sip of his wine. “I bounced around for a while at a label and wrote most of an album, but we wound up parting ways due to… creative differences, and you know where I ended up after that.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“As for how I knew it was what I wanted to do, it was pretty much my only option,” he said. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something else, but then he shook his head slightly. “Hence the current dilemma.”

“Figuring out what to do with yourself in the meantime?” she asked.

The quirk of his lips was back. “Exactly.” They looked at each other, gazes locked, for what seemed like forever before he spoke again. “So, has your roommate tried to pressure you into making YouTube videos since the last time we talked?”

“Fortunately, no,” Rey said before she reached for her water glass and took a sip. “He usually lays off for a couple months after I snap at him about it, which means we’re due for the pestering to start up again any day now.”

“Have you thought at all about how you’re going to get yourself in at a label?” Kylo asked.

She shrugged. “I mean, I have. I’m just not satisfied with enough of what’s currently finished to really feel like it’s worthwhile to try to be noticed. I mean, what’s the point in getting myself in there if I don’t have the material for an album? I need to prove I’m worth it, right?”

The weight of his gaze was heavy as he looked at her. “I have absolutely no doubt that you’re worth it.”

She laughed slightly, pushing her hair back behind her ears once again. “You’ve never heard anything I’ve written, so I don’t think you can say that.”

“Maybe not, but I have little doubt that it’s good,” he said.

“You think that something written by a girl who likes Taylor Swift could be good?” she asked.

He sighed. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She grinned. “Absolutely not. I’ll still be ragging on you about it the day you die.”

“You think you’ll still be talking to me the day I die?” he asked.

“I mean, um,” she bit her lip, “I… Yeah.”

He shook his head. “Lofty goal, that.”

“More lofty than getting a record deal?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Quite possibly, yes,” he said. “And if your work is as good as I suspect it is, then definitely.”

“Sure,” she said. “We’ll see who’s proven wrong first, then, shall we?”

“Challenge accepted,” he said.

The conversation for the rest of the meal was light and easy, but her stomach sank when the waiter returned with the check and Kylo’s card—he’d insisted on paying, saying that he’d been the one to invite her out and pick the restaurant, and while part of her wanted to argue, the sensible part knew that he had substantially more money than she did and covering the whole meal wouldn’t be anywhere near as big a hit to his monthly budget as paying her half would be for her (if he even had a budget, that is. She was pretty sure he had enough money to not need one).

He slid the card back into his wallet and filled something in on the tip line on the receipt. They were both quiet as they pulled their coats on and made their way out of the restaurant, and she took a deep breath when they stopped on the sidewalk.

“I—” she began.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked.

She stared at him for a moment. “A walk?”

“We’re so close to Central Park, and it’s a nice evening,” he said. His expression hardened again when she didn’t say anything. “If you don’t want to, it’s—”

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket and she pulled it out to see Finn’s name flashing on the screen, a message beneath it.

_> You still alive?_

She rolled her eyes, unlocking the phone to type out a response.

**_> As a matter of fact, yes, I am_ **

**_> We’re going for a walk in Central Park_ **

**_> Send help if I’m not home when you wake up_ **

His response came through before she could put the phone away.

_> k well don’t die_

She laughed and shoved the phone back into her pocket. “That was my roommate checking to make sure that I’m still alive and you’re not a serial killer or something. I told him to send help if I’m not home when he gets up tomorrow, so if you asked me on this walk to murder me without witnesses, he knows where I went.”

She was expecting the lip quirk, but then Kylo’s mouth curved into a real, honest-to-god grin, and for a moment she thought she was standing in an alternate reality because she had never seen him properly smile before. He took a step forward, and it wasn’t until they’d started down the sidewalk that he said anything.

“I’m glad that this roommate that I haven’t even met yet is already convinced of my criminal intent,” he said.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Rey said. “He thinks you’re some guy named Kyle. If you ever actually meet him, we’ll just say you’re a different person.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows. “Kyle?”

Rey shrugged. “I figured I probably shouldn’t go around telling people that I’m getting dinner with Kylo Ren.” She winced. “Not that I think Finn would do anything, but—”

“I have a reputation,” Kylo said, his jaw tightening.

“Not even that,” Rey said. “I just don’t want anyone to overhear and think it would be cool to call the paparazzi and give them a tip-off about it.” She shrugged again. “I just didn’t think that either of us would welcome media attention at this point, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” Kylo said. “Thank you.”

She smiled slightly. “No problem. Besides, Kyle’s close enough to Kylo that if I ever slip up and say the wrong name, I can just pass it off as a mistake or like I meant to do it. You know, like ‘I’m talking to Kyle—oh, did you hear about that thing that happened?’”

“You’ve really thought this thing through,” Kylo said.

“I like to be thorough,” she said.

They wandered around Central Park for a while, talking quietly, the darkness broken by the gleam of lights from buildings and the nearby streets. If Rey hadn’t been with Kylo, she wouldn’t have gone near the park at that time of day, but between his presence and their unspoken decision to stay on the edges of the park, she felt safe enough.

Their pinkies brushed together as they walked, the distance between their bodies small, and Rey bit her lip as she thought back to Finn’s earlier remark— _you’re getting dinner with a guy and that usually means it’s a date_ —and, before she could chicken out, slipped her hand into Kylo’s. It should have felt wrong—she wasn’t good with physical contact with people that she didn’t know well, or even people that she did know well, really—but he laced his fingers through hers and didn’t say anything, and the tension left her shoulders.

They had fallen into an easy silence by the time she thought to check her watch, and she immediately tensed when she saw the position of the hands.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she said, releasing Kylo’s hand and digging in her pocket for her phone.

“Hey,” he said, his hand ghosting across her shoulder enough to make her pause and look at him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s eleven-thirty and I need to get back home to Brooklyn and I hate taking the subway alone at this time of night,” Rey said. “Plus it’ll be one in the morning by the time I get home, and I… I’ll just… call Rose and see if I can stay with her.” She was about to hit the “call” icon on Rose’s contact when she stopped. “Except she has to be up early tomorrow morning so I probably shouldn’t bother her. Shit.”

“I can come with you,” Kylo said. “If you don’t want to be on the subway alone.”

Rey shook her head. “No. By the time you get home it’ll probably be three in the morning and I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking,” he said. “I offered. I don’t want you to feel unsafe.”

“It’s my fault for not checking the time, not yours,” Rey said. “I got a little… sidetracked.” She raked her hand through her hair. “I’ll deal with it, it’s fine, I’ll call my roommate and tell him when to expect me home so he knows I’m coming and I’ll just… I’ll deal with it.”

“Let me call you a taxi, then,” Kylo said.

Rey stared at him. “After you paid for dinner and everything? Kylo, no.”

“I’m the reason why you’re out this late,” he said. “Let me do this, please.”

She crossed her arms. “…Fine.”

True to his word, he called her a cab and passed the driver so much money that Rey was pretty sure he could’ve driven her to Brooklyn and back about four times for that fare. Kylo didn’t seem concerned about that, though. He just stood there with her on the sidewalk outside the cab, and she held her breath when he reached up to push her hair back where it had fallen into her face, his gaze searching hers.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said softly. “It was fun.”

He didn’t smile, but there was a softness to his expression as he looked at her that made her stomach twist. “It was. I’ll see you, Rey.”

Her name on his lips sounded like a caress, and she nodded. “Yeah.”

He shut the door once she was safely seated in the back of the cab, and she watched him through the rear windshield as the cab pulled away from the curb. His figure was unmoving as she drove away, and it wasn’t until he had faded from her sight that she turned to face the front of the car.

Damn.

Maybe it was a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My children. I love them. This chapter is approximately 1500 words longer than almost all of the other ones because we're getting into the real stuff now, but we'll see if that trend continues with the rest of the story.
> 
> With this chapter, I started mocking up Rey's outfits on Polyvore (not specific in the sense that it's the exact brands she's wearing or whatever, but the general look I'm going for), and while I'm mainly doing it for myself to help with visualizations, I'd be happy to share the sets over on Tumblr (you can find me at reynoverthegalaxy) if you guys would be interested in that. It won't be anything like AquaWolfGirl's SWAR sets because the clothes aren't that nice (yet...), but let me know if that's something you'd like me to start doing (also, I love SWAR and am dying for the next chapter, so s/o to her for that).
> 
> Chapter title is "Please Forgive Me" by David Gray: "Please forgive me if I act a little strange, for I know not what I do, feels like lightning running through my veins every time I look at you." The entire song fits, really, but I chose it for this chapter based on that lyric. White Ladder as an album is very important to me for a myriad of reasons, and it's an album that I've known since my earliest memories (I was a young toddler when it was released, and "Nightblindness" is probably the first song I actually have a clear memory of hearing). I wouldn't call it my favorite album (that position is tied between _Born to Run_ and _Fearless_ ), but that's because it occupies an entirely different place for me that can't be described as a "favorite." It just... _is_. It's a beautiful album with a lot of multi-level associations for me, so I would say that I experience it a little differently than most people, but I highly recommend that you check it out if you've never listened to it before.
> 
> I feel like there was something else that I wanted to say here, but I can't remember what it is, so... Thank you for reading and subscribing and bookmarking and commenting and leaving kudos. It means the world to me. 
> 
> Until next time x


	9. from eden

The days that Rey and Finn both had off were few and far between, but that didn’t mean that they turned those rare occurrences into special events.

That was why, rather than getting ready to leave the apartment or coming back from brunch late that Friday morning, Rey was lying on the couch with her head resting on Finn’s thigh, her attention focused on a word scramble game while he watched a rerun of one of the many cooking competitions on Food Network. The dishes from their breakfast—homemade chocolate chip waffles, fruit, and tea for Rey and coffee for Finn—were drying in the kitchen, and both were still in their pajamas, as was their routine for days when neither of them had anywhere to be.

“I don’t know where these people get these ideas,” Finn said, his gaze fixed on the television.

Rey glanced at the screen before turning her attention back to her game. “That’s why neither you nor I are professional chefs.” She smiled a moment later. “I’d love to see Rose on one of these shows.”

“She wants to be a pastry chef, not a—a—” Finn began.

“A regular chef?” Rey asked. He looked down at her and she shrugged as best she could given her position. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “But whatever you call it, I don’t know how well she’d do against people whose job it is to know these kinds of things.”

“It’s just chemistry,” Rey said. “And she’s made us dinner plenty of times. Do you really think she wouldn’t be able to handle herself?”

“Who knows?” Finn said. “I’m going to guess that we’ll never find out, though.”

“You never know,” Rey said.

They lapsed back into silence then, Finn’s focus returning to the show as Rey drew connections between the letters displayed on her phone screen. It was something that probably would’ve drawn ire from some people had she been behind the counter at the store— _those damn Millennials_ —but she liked to keep her brain and her hands busy. If she didn’t, she fidgeted, and while he was normally all right with it for a little while, there was only so long that Finn could take her tapping her fingers or shaking her leg before he had to walk away.

(She couldn’t blame him—it even got on her nerves after a certain point.)

She was on the last anagram of a level, staring at the letters in front of her, when a push notification appeared at the top of the screen—a photo message from _Kyle_. Before it could disappear, she clicked on the notification, biting her lip as it pulled up her messaging app.

Her eyes widened as she tapped on the image to make it fill the screen. It was of a dashboard display—in his car? It had to be his car—showing the “now playing” screen. She inhaled sharply as she read the text on the screen, proclaiming that he was listening to Bruce Springsteen’s cover of “Just Like Fire Would.” Exiting out of the photo, she glanced at the message beneath it.

> _This made me think of you._

Biting the inside of her cheeks to hide the smile that was threatening to make an appearance, she typed out a reply.

**_> Please tell me you didn’t send that while you were driving_ **

_> Red light._

**_> Sure_ **

_> I’m serious._

**_> You’re not at a red light now_ **

_> No, I’m at a gas station._

**_> Why?_ **

_> Going upstate._

**_> Why?_ **

_> Is that all you can ask?_

**_> What word can you make out of the letters R E O M S N?_ **

_> Touché._

_> Sermon._

The second message was sent almost immediately after the first one. Her eyes widened as she looked at it, and when she switched to her game and entered the word, the level end screen appeared. She glanced up at Finn to make sure he wasn’t paying attention before she switched back to the conversation, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

**> _How did you come up with that so fast?_**

_> Scrabble champion._

_> Why are you playing with anagrams?_

**_> You would be_ **

**_> It’s a stupid game on my phone_ **

**_> I need to be busy and I like words_ **

**_> Why are you going upstate?_ **

_> I have a place._

**_> Of course you do_ **

**_> How long are you going for?_ **

She closed her eyes almost as soon as she sent the text. It wasn’t like she had a right to ask him what he was doing, or where he was going, or for how long. She had no claim to him other than a conversation over coffee and a nice dinner. Positive that she’d overstepped her bounds, she opened her eyes again to see another message from him.

_> Just the weekend. I’ll see you when I get back. _

She wasn’t able to reply to the statement before another message popped up.

_> If you want._

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she bit her lip as she read and re-read the texts. Before she could lose her nerve, she typed out a response and sent it.

**> _I do_**

**_> Want to see you, I mean_ **

She locked her phone and set it on the couch beside her so that she couldn’t see the screen, taking a deep breath. Reaching up to rake her hand through her hair, she made eye contact with Finn, who was watching her with his eyebrows raised.

“Talking to somebody important?”

Sitting up, she shrugged. “Not really.”

“Kyle?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said, her shoulders tensing.

Finn opened his mouth to say something, only to shut it when his phone let out a _ding!_ from its position on the arm of the sofa. Any suspicion disappeared from his expression as he read the message, and after a moment he glanced back at Rey.

“Want to get lunch with Poe?”

“Today?” Rey asked.

“Yeah, in a couple hours,” Finn said.

“Rose is working right now, isn’t she?” Rey asked.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “She’s got that consistent opening shift during the week now.”

“Damn,” Rey said. “We’ll just have to do dinner sometime so she can come.” She covered a yawn with her hand. “Whatever, I’m in. When do we need to leave?”

“Forty-five minutes?” Finn said. “If you’re good with that.”

“It’s not like I need to impress him, so that’s fine,” Rey said. “I mean, he saw me first thing in the morning and I’ve seen him without a shirt, so…” She eyed Finn, grinning. “And something tells me you’ve seen him missing a lot more than just a shirt, so you have even less to be embarrassed about than I do. Or is it more?”

Finn grabbed one of the few, mismatched throw pillows that they owned, and threw it at her, his cheeks darkening. “Shut up. Do you want me to start harassing you about Kyle?”

“It’s not like you found _him_ shirtless in our kitchen, so you don’t really have a leg to stand on,” Rey said, willing herself not to blush at the idea of Kylo without a shirt.

It was a losing battle, probably. Just the mental image of him—tall, broad-shouldered, well-muscled under his dark clothing, that look in his eyes from just before he closed the door on her cab—was enough to send heat to her cheeks, and she grabbed her phone from the cushion as she stood up.

“I’m going to go change,” she said, not waiting for Finn to respond before she walked away.

“Nice diversion tactic,” he called as she entered her room and shut the door.

He didn’t follow her, though, and she quickly unlocked her phone without looking at the notifications on the screen. Scrolling through her playlists, she selected one and put it on shuffle before she set her phone on top of the dresser.

It didn’t take her long to pick out her clothes—as she’d said to Finn, Poe (for all his fame) wasn’t someone that she felt the need to impress, and so the black jeans and slouchy grey sweater that she pulled on didn’t seem like a risky choice. Paired with her go-to black boots and bag, she looked put together enough that it didn’t matter who she was meeting. It wasn’t like they were going to dinner at some fancy restaurant anyway.

Once she was dressed, she passed the time until they needed to leave picking out some new melodies on the guitar that she’d bought from Maz. She’d been writing more, lately, and while the lyrics had melodies, figuring out exactly how to translate them to the musical layers she could record with a pedal took her a while.

She slipped her phone into her bag without checking her messages. The little red notification on the messaging app bothered her, but not quite as much as her own brazenness in the form of her last texts. Whatever Kylo had to say, she’d deal with it after the meal once they were safely back in the apartment and she could be embarrassed in peace.

Just over an hour later, they met Poe at a quiet café that Rey and Finn had visited a few times before, only he wasn’t alone. Rey hung back as Poe greeted Finn with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, the musician’s form blocking whoever it was that was sitting at the table, and when he stepped forward to hug Rey, she caught sight of the woman’s face.

“You,” Rey said, causing Poe to pause as he reached for her.

He glanced back over his shoulder at his companion. “You two know each other?”

“We’ve met,” Jessika said, smiling. “Hi, Rey!”

Sensing that the moment for a greeting had passed, Poe sat down beside Jessika. Finn took the seat across from him, while Rey took the seat across from Jessika. She looked at Jessika, then at Poe, and then back at Jessika.

“I’m confused,” Rey said eventually.

“Not more confused than I am,” Poe said. “How do you two know each other?”

“We met at the store where she works,” Jessika said. “Sorry I didn’t come in again after that first time, Rey. Things got a little crazy at work.”

“She’s music store girl?” Poe asked. “Small world.”

“Apparently,” Jessika said. She smiled across the table at Finn. “Hi, I’m Jessika.”

“I’m Finn,” Finn said.

“I know,” Jessika said, her smile widening. “Poe talks about you all the time. How do you know Rey?”

“We live together,” Rey said. “You and Poe are…”

“Best friends and coworkers, of a sort,” Poe said.

Jessika laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.” She looked at Rey and Finn, mischief in her eyes. “What he means is that I’m the one on the outside of the booth every time he decides to have a fit of creativity, as he likes to call it.”

“I’ve done some of my best work in those moments, I’ll have you know,” Poe said, crossing his arms.

Jessika patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you have.” She took a sip from her glass of water and shrugged. “To put it more plainly, I’m a recording tech at Rebellion Records. I’ve known this troublemaker since my first day on the job eight years ago.”

Finn’s eyes lit up at her admission, and before Rey could catch his arm to signal him not to say anything, he spoke. “You and Rey should talk recording, then.”

Rey slumped back in her chair, avoiding eye contact with both Jessika and Poe. She was saved from them saying anything by the arrival of the waiter, but not for long. As soon as they had placed their orders and the waiter disappeared, Poe jumped on Finn’s statement.

“I didn’t know you were a musician, Rey.”

Rey smiled weakly. “Yeah, I am.”

“She’s incredible,” Finn said. “I don’t know why she refuses to share her music with anyone, ‘cause it’s amazing. I’ve listened to her play pretty much every day since we started living together, and all I have to say is that everyone else should be so lucky.”

“High praise, that,” Jessika said.

“Yeah,” Rey said. “Although some people weren’t supposed to _say anything_.”

She all but hissed the last two words, and Finn winced. Poe looked at each of them for a few moments in turn before exchanging a glance with Jessika, who nodded.

“You should come into the studio and play with me sometime,” Poe said.

Rey’s head snapped up and she stared at him. “You’re crazy.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve got a bunch of practice time booked for the next month or so, and I don’t think it would hurt anything if you came in to mess around for a bit, right, Jess?”

“Please,” Jessika said. “He usually uses me as his guinea pig for new ideas and I have to say that I could use a break. Fresh ears are never a bad thing, anyway.”

“I know how much money studio time costs and you don’t know if I’m even good,” Rey said. “I know what Finn says, but he’s my best friend. He’s contractually obligated. I can’t take up something that expensive.” She shook her head. “No way.”

“It would be loads of fun, though,” Poe said. “Besides, I have enough studio time to record six albums booked in the next five weeks, and I get to do what I want with it. It’ll just be me screwing around with a guitar the whole time anyway, so you wouldn’t be taking up anything important.”

“Come on, Rey,” Finn said. “I know how much you’ve been wanting to get into a real studio.”

Rey squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to snap at him. She’d asked him not to say anything to Poe about her music—she didn’t want to capitalize on her roommate’s relationship with the man, no matter what that relationship was—and he’d done it anyway. No matter how positive Poe and Jessika seemed to be, there was nothing to say they would stay that way once they actually heard her music.

No, it was better to stay as far away as possible. That much she was sure of.

“I can’t,” Rey said. “It wouldn’t be right. I haven’t earned it.”

“You’ve been working on your music for as long as I’ve known you,” Finn said. “If all the hours you’ve poured into writing and learning new instruments don’t count as earning it, then I don’t know what does.”

“Honestly, Rey, no one will care,” Poe said. “There’s so many studios at the label that I use my favorite one without booking it half the time.”

“And he drags me into it when I’m supposed to have downtime,” Jessika said. “It’s honestly unfair how much he takes advantage of me.”

“You know you can say no whenever you want to,” Poe said, though his gaze was still fixed on Rey. “I practice at the studio all the time so that I don’t annoy my neighbors.”

“Poe, you don’t have neighbors,” Jessika said.

“I do on the floor below me, and that’s beside the point,” Poe said. “I can do what I want with my time at the studio, Rey. No one will care if there’s one more person there, I’m telling you.”

Rey bit her lip. “I just—”

“You don’t have to play,” Poe said. “You don’t even have to come into the booth. You can just watch and yell at me over the intercom like Jess does.”

Jessika rolled her eyes. “It’s for your own good.” She looked at Rey then, a gentle smile on her face. “Really though, we’re really relaxed when we’re working. Poe’s always writing and our producers aren’t that concerned about how long it takes him to get things out at this point, so we pretty much do whatever we want.”

“Finn can even come, if it would make you feel better,” Poe said.

Rey looked at him, then at Jessika. They were both watching her with earnest expressions, leaning forward with their forearms resting on the table. She didn’t have to look to the side to know that Finn had a similar look on his face, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at them.

It wasn’t something she was used to, having people work so relentlessly to give her something that she wanted after she refused it the first time. Until she’d met Finn, and then Rose, any attempt to give her something she wanted was an attempt to get something from her, and even then those moments were few and far between.

Poe and Jessika, though, had no signs of an ulterior motive in their expressions. They wanted her there, even if it was just to watch, and it was with that thought in mind that she swallowed hard and nodded.

“Okay, but just to watch,” she said. “I know you say it doesn’t matter, but I can’t take your studio time like that.”

“That’s totally fine,” Poe said. “You’ll still have fun, right, Jess?”

“Absolutely,” Jessika said. “I’m so ready to have help yelling at him.”

“You have Kay there all the time,” Poe said.

Jessika shook her head. “She’s required to be there. It doesn’t count. I yell at you because I care.” Taking in Rey and Finn’s confused expressions, she smiled. “Kaydel Ko Connix. She’s my right hand woman when I have actual work to do.”

“Which isn’t as often as it should be since I don’t give her things to work on,” Poe said.

“Is that normal?” Rey asked. “A recording tech working so closely with one musician, I mean.”

Poe and Jessika exchanged a glance and then both shrugged.

“Not really, but Jess has been working with me since she first showed up as an assistant to the assistant of the assistant tech,” Poe said.

“He means intern,” Jessika said. “We hit it off that summer and when I came back I was always working on his sessions, and somewhere along the way he started requesting me and then it pretty much became accepted that I’d only be working with other people whenever he wasn’t in the studio.”

“Even if all I’m doing is messing around,” Poe said. “You’ll see it when you come in, Rey, but things around Rebellion Records tend to be pretty relaxed most of the time. Leia says it keeps the creative juices flowing.”

Rey paled. Finn took one look at her and laughed.

“She practically idolizes Leia Organa,” Finn said.

“Practically?” Rey asked. “I might die if I ever get to meet her. She’s a legend.”

“She’s pretty awesome,” Poe said.

“When you aren’t butting heads with her, anyway,” Jessika said. She grinned when Rey raised her eyebrows. “Theirs is a loving relationship, but Poe can be a little impulsive sometimes and it drives her crazy.”

“You say that like you know her well,” Rey said.

“That’s probably because we do,” Poe said. “She spends a lot of time at the label.”

Rey took a deep breath. “Wow.”

Jessika laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

There was a lull in the conversation for a moment before Poe smiled. “Here, let me give you my phone number, Rey, and we can figure out a time for you to come in.”

“I’ll give you mine too, just so we can make sure there’s someone there who can take you back,” Jessika said.

Rey held her phone out to Jessika. Poe looked at Rey in confusion and she shrugged. “Finn gave me your number the other day as an insurance policy.”

”I see,” Poe said, though the furrow of his brow said otherwise.

Jessika put herself in as a contact before handing the phone back to Rey. “I didn’t look at it, but you got a text from someone while I was putting my number in,” she said. “Just so you know.”

“I’ll look at it later,” Rey said.

“Later” meant well after returning to the apartment that afternoon. She put away all the clean dishes and vacuumed the living room, and it wasn’t until after she’d finished scrubbing the bathtub—a task that she utterly despised—that she finally summoned the courage to look at the messages she’d received from Kylo since her text that morning.

His first reply made her inhale sharply.

> _I want that too._

She stared at it for a minute before scrolling down to look at the next message, which must have arrived while Jessika had her phone. It was a screenshot of the music player on his phone, partway through a song. The album cover made her smile, and her smile only widened at the title of the song—“Build Me Up Buttercup.”

> _I’m trying to have a little fun._

Letting out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding, she typed out a reply.

**> _I’m proud of you :)_**

**_> Enjoy your weekend_ **

His response arrived almost instantaneously.

_> You too, Rey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than expected and it's a little more of a mess than I'd originally intended because of that, but so it goes. There was some family drama last week and I just wasn't in the mood to write at all, but then I went to see TLJ again with my best friend this weekend and I just... Guys. They're so in love already. Ben Solo literally proposed to his space girlfriend. She's everything to him. Neither of them are alone. I'm dying. My best friend and I have both agreed that we could be watching the movie for the four hundredth time and we still wouldn't be tired of it because there is just SO. MUCH. there. Adam Driver has been snubbed this Oscars season and his acting skills are ridiculous and have made me even more into this character gah I love my space son.
> 
> (Also, I thought I wanted Ben Solo to be redeemed before, but after seeing TLJ again I need it with every fiber of my being.)
> 
> Chapter title is "From Eden" by Hozier: "Babe, there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? Babe, there's something lonesome about you, something so wholesome about you, get closer to me."
> 
> It's past midnight here and I'm incredibly hungry so I'm going to go eat something and go to bed. This is your friendly reminder that you can find me over on Tumblr at reynoverthegalaxy, where I'm now posting sets of Rey's outfits (and possible Kylo's in the future) to go along with the chapters (this chapter's isn't up yet because the set doesn't want to publish correctly, but that should be corrected at some point after I wake up so look for it tomorrow). 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions, you guys are amazing. Until next time x

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from "We Take Care Of Our Own" by Bruce Springsteen—"I've been knocking on the door that holds the throne, **I've been looking for the map that leads me home** , I've been stumbling on good hearts turned to stone, the road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone, we take care of our own."


End file.
